


Le Beau Cauchemar

by ace_ofspades



Series: Erasing the Nightmares [1]
Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Child Death Mention, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Insecurity, Insomnia, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Self-Hatred, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suicide mention, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, at the end of it, i guess??, insane amounts of, oh god here we go, this is my first work and of course its OC/canon, welcome to the shitshow assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 76,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_ofspades/pseuds/ace_ofspades
Summary: Akane Kuramoto is a UA graduate with a quirk that allows her to manifest the most recent nightmares of herself and those around her with a horrifying side-effect. Drawing on her own struggles in controlling her quirk that lead to debilitating mental health issues in the past, she works as a child psychologist specialising in quirk management. Hired by her old school to counsel students, she quickly bonds with the children and finds a sense of belonging she hasn't felt in a long time.But when a case that dredges up memories best left forgotten arrives in her office, Akane must confront her own inner demons and make decisions that stretch her resolve to its' limits. Then, there's the slight problem that she's accidentally developed feelings for the taciturn homeroom teacher of Class 1-A with whom she can't seem to hold a full conversation without messing up.Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference between a nightmare and a dream.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> y'all can blame @ohbird for this bc i wouldn't have written this shit if it weren't for their sweet, sweet validation.

Too noisy. The cafeteria was always too. Bloody. Noisy. No matter how high she had her headphones playing, there was always some kind of unwanted addition making its way through the barrier of sound, and it drove. Her. Crazy. 

To an outsider, the diminutive blonde sitting at a corner table of the prestigious UA High food court seemed normal enough for a student in training to be a hero; there were others with more noticeable, flashy quirks that drew attention in a place where she barely merited a second glance. Ironic, then, that her quirk seemed to outdo them all in the weirdness department.   
Her thumb brushed across the glossy laminate of her identification card, resting just over the small print of information that had come to define her life.

Name: Akane Kuramoto

Age: 16

Above that was a picture of her, taken earlier that year. A small frown quirked at the mouth of her bespectacled face, the dusting of freckles and shoulder-length hair making her look painfully, deceptively normal. The next line of text shattered that illusion.

Quirk: Nightmare Manifestation

In those three words lay the explanation for so much strange behaviour - the isolation, the insomnia, the anxiety. It wasn’t so much the quirk itself that made everything so difficult. Rather, it was the way it showed itself. But that was why she was here, she reminded herself; she was in her second year of UA’s hero course and already her control over her ability had increased tenfold. 

It still wasn’t enough.

Not enough to make her own nightmares stop, and not enough to fully suppress its effects when it wasn’t needed. Surrounded by those who seemed to think of nothing but the greater good and helping others, her own reasons for entering the course seemed so selfish in comparison that she almost couldn’t bring herself to admit it, and certainly not to fully integrate herself with the teenagers infinitely more worthy of being here than she. To them, becoming a hero was a privilege, something they strove for because it was the right thing to do; to her, it was a means to an end. She hated herself for it. 

The sound of clattering tupperware and shouts snapped her from the depths of self pity she had been wallowing in, forcing her attention back to the present. Several tables over, a boy had been pushed from his seat by a group of other students. Even after turning her music off, she couldn’t make out what was being said. Fights weren’t rare, per se, but they rarely occured in such a public setting - in a school full of future superheroes, you had to be either incredibly angry or incredibly stupid to go after someone in broad daylight. From what Kuramoto could tell, this incident was one of the second category. As much as she hated to stereotype, the group of four that had targeted the boy now sprawled out on the ground seemed like cookie-cutter replicas of the bullies from every highschool film ever made. The tallest one, obviously the leader was, for lack of better words, a rock. Quite literally, his entire face appeared to be sculpted from some kind of marble. Behind him stood a girl whose hair seemed to swirl around her like ropes and a pair who looked to be twins, eerily still as they watched the scene unfold.

Cautiously, she made her way forward to stand at the back of the circle that had appeared around the group and their victim. For the first time that period, the room was entirely silent, as if holding a collective breath. 

And then someone dropped their bowl.

Like a match on gasoline, the cafeteria seemed to ignite in chaos. Screams echoed in her ears and quirks flew left and right as she tried to control herself, attempting to regulate her breathing like she’d taught herself to do. She couldn’t let herself slip - with this many people around, her brain had nigh limitless material to work with, and doing so would make everything so much worse. Keep breathing. Just. Keep. Breathing. Before it could register in her head, a heavy force knocked her to the ground and though her glasses had been thrown off, her eyes made out the crystalline figure of the boy from earlier - the leader of the group that had started all this. Crawling along the ground, he appeared just as afraid as those around him at the chaos his actions had wrought. He was a child, just like the rest of them - and he was afraid. He’d be terrified by the time this was over. 

Already she could feel herself losing the tenuous grip she had over her quirk, and it showed in the face of the statue-boy before her, contorting from an expression of tentative anxiety to one of visceral, unrestrained horror. She could feel her flesh parting, slits opening on her forehead, her cheekbones, her arms and neck and sternum as if woken from a long sleep under her skin. She stared at herself in the reflective shine of the boy’s alabaster features, and a monster stared back. It was too late for her to stop what was happening as red and black sclera began to roll and writhe in their unnatural sockets along her body. A faint red light from the orifices gaping like open wounds moved up the length of the hapless bully’s body. In an instant, the soft scarlet glow was replaced with hundreds upon hundreds of insects crawling across the marble in an ever-undulating swarm. A scream tore through him, raw and utterly helpless as he raced and stumbled backwards across the floor, trying to distance himself from the creatures that dragged themselves across his stone skin. 

She didn’t want to do this. She wanted it to stop. But she couldn’t - not when the weight of the noise and light and anarchy of the world around her was bearing down on her shoulders, throwing her consciousness this way and that, tearing into her very being with claws that gripped her in a vice-grip. Distantly, she realised a scream of her own was being ripped from her throat to join the cacophony around them. Clutching the sides of her head, she balled herself up and tried to block it all out. If she could do that, she might be able to calm down. She might be able to stop tormenting her classmate with a vision taken straight from his own mind. She tried, but it was too loud. Too loud. Too loud!

Quiet.

It was like someone had flicked a switch, and suddenly everything had stopped. Frozen. Looking around, she realised that nobody appeared to be moving at all, until someone climbed up on one of the tables. A third-year by the looks of her, she stood with a determination that sent shivers through the crowd. Her quirk must have been some kind of freeze-motion, because still nobody moved. 

“Are we all done here?” An irritated voice called out, tapping her foot against the metal of the table beneath her. “Have you all had your fun? For goodness’ sake, we’re meant to be heroes! How can we expect to help people and serve the common good if we’re going at each other like animals in a cage?! As class 3-A representative, I’m putting an end to this so our teachers don’t need to take time out of their already busy days to clean up the mess you children have caused!” 

A murmur went through the room, sanity seemingly restored. If there was one thing a group of self-righteous high-schoolers couldn’t stand being called, it was childish. The girl standing above the crowd sighed in exasperation, continuing, “Now, we have fifteen minutes until lunch ends. In that time I expect everyone to pick themselves off the ground and clean up this mess until I can’t even tell it happened. Am I clear?” With an almost parental glare and a snap of her fingers, movement was restored. Slowly, the students began to get up, a collective sense of embarrassment permeating the air. 

The cleanup was fast - unsurprisingly, there were at least a few students whose quirks were useful in that department. Even so, the room was deathly quiet. In the aftermath of what felt like a miniature earthquake, the instigators were quickly identified and removed to face discipline. This was a school for heroes, after all, and bringing people to justice seemed to be something all it’s students enjoyed. 

It was then Kuramoto realised that although the offending parties had been dealt with, their victim had been left to himself, standing to the side of the room like any wrong move might start the entire thing up again. One of her ‘eyes’ still hadn’t retreated under her skin and was spread across her cheek like a bruise, but maybe if she was kind enough he wouldn’t mind that. He almost jumped out of his skin at her approach, although whether that was because of her appearance or his surprise at being spoken to was as yet unknown.

 

“Hey. Are you feeling alright?” 

It was such a weak thing to say, but she was flying blind as it was. Staring with widened eyes, he replied in a shaky breath, 

“Y-Yeah.. Yeah… just in shock, I guess.”

“Do you wanna go somewhere else? It might help to get out and clear your head.”

“Yeah... I think I’d like that…” 

It was at that moment when Akane Kuramoto realised that she was never going to be a superhero. The world always focused on the problems that were staring them in the face, making themselves impossible to ignore. That was what superheroes fixed. It was the little things, the individual struggles and personal demons that made up the society they lived in, and yet seemed to take a backseat in the minds of the public. She decided, then and there, that those were the battles she was going to fight.

Nobody looked at her while she helped the other boy up the steps of the cafeteria, silently reminding herself to seek out the boy with marble skin and apologise. Nobody acknowledged the insignificant act of kindness that they had ignored in favour of a greater, more grand deed. She was okay with that. 

Or so she thought.

Unseen by her, a boy with scruffy black hair and a scarf that wasn’t really a scarf wrapped around his neck watched her leave with furrowed brows. Moments before, he had been restraining a girl with hair that moved like whips, taking out at least one contributor to the chaos around them. Looking over her shoulder, he had seen a girl with blonde hair and too many eyes crying as a boy with stone skin covered in bugs screamed at her, begging her to stop. 

Whatever she had done to him, she hadn’t wanted to do it - that was clear enough. A quirk that powerful could have made her unstoppable in combat, should have given her the upper hand. She had the power to bring people to their knees, but instead she curled up and cried. It was only when he saw her helping the boy they had all forgotten make his way out of the food court that he realised why. In three years at UA, he had rarely seen someone go out of their way to help a stranger without any kind of motive in mind; for a school that trained heroes, their students could still be unbelievably selfish in their efforts to achieve their goals. A tiny act of empathy from someone who seemed to be struggling so much herself made him realise that what she had done wasn’t out of some misplaced desire to be heroic, but out of a genuine kindness and wish to do good that was depressingly rare in the highly competitive environment they were part of. While everyone around her was trying to be ‘great’, this girl with a power that could have put her amongst the great heroes in history was simply trying to be good. And it floored him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really don't know what I was doing with this chapter but I wanted to give y'all an idea of what her job is like, so here ya go

“So, Masahiro, you said that your quirk has been showing itself spontaneously in situations where you don’t believe there was any reason to, even as a defensive reflex?”

Akane sat with her clipboard and pen in hand as she watched the thirteen-year-old squirm in the overstuffed armchair across from her that was reserved for her patients. 

 

“Y-yeah! One time, I was sitting in class watching a movie, and then my shield went up for nothing! It was like, no warning or anything, just- ‘bam!’” he made an exploding motion with his hands, complete with sound effects, and she stifled a laugh behind her clipboard. “I dunno what happened!”

“I see. Do you remember any specific emotions at that time? Anything that you think might have caused it, even if it wasn’t fear?”

He shrugged, “Not really. I was just really bored, y’know? It happens a lot, too - that’s why mom wanted me to come here, right?”

“Well, yes,” Her voice had the slow, measured quality she had perfected for her job - she had found that children reacted better to someone who seemed calm and in control rather than overly chirpy or energetic, “your mother was worried that your quirk manifesting at inconvenient times was indicative of something that needed to be addressed elsewhere in your life. I’m trying to figure out whether that’s the case.”

The boy nodded, eyes trained more on the miniature puzzle she had given him to help his focus than her own line of sight. 

“I dunno, usually it just happens when I’m tired or bored, like, thinking about something else,” he looked up at her, gesturing to the contraption in his hand, “I’m done with this one. Can I get a chocolate now?” 

With a quick note in her file, she reached into the jar by her side and handed him a small piece of candy which he energetically accepted. 

“Tired or bored, hm? That gives me an idea as to what might be going on - and please, tell me if you think I’m wrong,” Kuramoto looked up at him, eyebrows raised in a request for permission.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

 

“Okay, well, most people have to focus on turning their quirk on, right? From what I’m getting, you have to put effort into turning it off, even if you don’t realise it. That’s why it happens when you’re tired or bored, because your brain forgets to flick the off switch. Does that sound like what might be happening?” Her lips twitched upwards in an encouraging smile, watching as the young boy worked over what she had said.

“I guess so. But why? What’s the point of it being on all the time if I’m just trying to turn it off?”

“Well, sometimes a defense mechanism isn’t only turned on in situations where you need to protect yourself. Hang on, I’ll give you an example…” 

she searched around in her pockets for a moment before pulling out her phone and showing him a picture of a tiny blue frog. 

“Do you know anything about poison dart frogs?” 

He shook his head, an expression of confusion evident on his face. 

“Alright, that’s fine. Basically, they live in the rainforests of South America, and their skin secretes a toxic mucus that’s sometimes strong enough to kill fully grown humans. That mucus is being produced even when they aren’t in danger, because it’s a permanent part of their biological make-up. Your quirk is kind of like that, except you can turn it off. Do you get what I’m saying?” 

“I mean… Kind of? So like, it’s a normal part of my body, but I can make it stop if I want it to?”

“Yeah! Exactly! Usually, your subconscious is turning it off anyway, but when your brain doesn’t have enough energy, it’ll sometimes forget to do that, and your shield will go up-” her train of thought was interrupted by the alarm on her phone letting her know that the session was almost finished. 

“Oh wow, I definitely lost track of time there. I’ll see you next week, but until then, keep what I’ve said in mind and maybe monitor how and when your shield goes up over the next few days so we can work on that next time, ‘kay?”

 

He nodded an affirmative, lifting himself from the seat. 

 

“Thanks for helping me. I wanna be a hero, but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to if I can’t control my quirk.”

Akane had lost track of how many kids had told her that over the years - not that it was any less important every time they did. They needed dreams, and being a pro-hero was the biggest one out there, even if it hadn’t ended up being what she had wanted to do. Gently, she patted him on the shoulder.

 

“Masahiro, the fact that you want to be a hero is wonderful; your quirk is a great defensive tactic and would be very useful in battles where you need to protect others - people, even other heroes, often forget how important it is to have good protection, especially in altercations taking place in a large open area. Even if it’s a little hard to get a grip on right now, that shouldn’t affect your abilities later on if you work to get it under control.” 

 

He looked up at her with wide eyes, and she had to stop herself laughing at the familiarity of the look. 

“How do you know all that?”

 

She grinned, “Call it past experience. C’mon, your mom is waiting for you outside and I heard her talking about taking you out to eat - you wouldn’t wanna miss that, would you?”

 

With her last case of the day finished, Kuramoto would usually have been ready to call it in and go home, where a large bowl of popcorn and her latest book were calling her name. Today, however, her already frayed nerves were going haywire as she organised her papers and packed up her things. She hadn’t been back to her old school in, what, ten years? Ten years since she rejected her full Hero License and ‘went AWOL’ as she’d heard it put. Trust a group of superheroes to equate getting a normal job with desertion. 

And then, last Thursday, she had gotten a call on her office phone from Principal Nezu (!) asking her to come back and work as a ‘guidance counselor’ for the students.   
What the flaming fuck?   
Of course, she had intended to reject the offer on the basis that she had clients she couldn’t let go of; being one of the only ‘quirk counselors’ in Japan with a background in psychology was a niche profession, but it did mean she had a small group of young patients that she frankly adored. If taking up a job at UA meant she had to abandon them, it was a no-brainer. 

Maybe Nezu’s real quirk was some kind of mind-reading, or maybe Akane was just that obvious, but he seemed to pick up on her apprehension and had immediately added that she was more than free to take up other jobs on the side. Curse the undeniable people-pleaser in her, but that combined with the infectious enthusiasm of Nezu’s voice had her agreeing to an interview before the logical side of her could object. 

She sensed that the interview was just a formality - to Nezu’s credit he seemed to remember almost everything about his students, and appeared quite sure of his decision. Still, the apprehension she felt at the prospect of returning to her Alma Mata was unexpectedly overwhelming. She almost didn’t notice the snake winding itself around her arm until it had landed on the table, leading to her slapping her cheek rather harder than necessary in order to close the offending eye. Even if quirk-control was now her speciality, her own powers still tended to manifest at quite inconvenient times if she was feeling a particularly strong emotion. The sleep deprivation didn’t help either, but with the kind of stuff she saw in her dreams keeping a good rest schedule wasn’t an option.

“Come on, it’s nothing big. You know the place well enough - just keep it together for a few more hours and then you can go back home…” she mumbled to herself, drumming her fingers across her desk. 

Finally, she felt ready enough to make her way out of the office, grabbing a can of the high-power energy drink that she mainlined so much of that her blood might as well be 90% caffeine by now. 

She sighed, the reality of what she was doing seeming to finally set in.

“God, this is gonna be such an awkward homecoming…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuramoto has her meeting with Nezu, and runs into an old friend.

Despite what Kuramoto had been expecting, UA had hardly changed a bit. Sure, the security was far tighter than she remembered it, but that was to be expected - with each new generation of heroes being brought up on the prestigious campus, a new wave of villains was working just as hard in the shadows to undo the progress made by their moral opposites. She could only remember one or two instances from her time at the school where there had been a semi-serious threat, and even those had lead to more intensive safety measures. Barring that, it was like a never-ending sense of deja-vu. 

Even more surprising, Principal Nezu looked almost exactly the same as she remembered; the chipper animal-hybrid seemed to defy all principles of ageing, (she wondered if it would be indiscreet to ask what kind of products he used,) and ushered her into his office with characteristic cheer. 

“Kuramoto-san! How good to see you again! Please, sit down - would you like some tea?” 

 

Akane didn’t have the heart to tell him that the only things she seemed to drink these days were more caffeine than actual nutritional value, so replied with a small smile, 

“If you don’t mind, sir, that would be very nice.”

 

“Not at all! Make yourself comfortable while I boil the water,” he chirped, moving around happily to gather the required elements.

Sitting in the chair offered, she found herself glancing around the room with her fists clenched, trying not to let her nerves take over. It wouldn’t do to have any unwanted orifices appearing right now, let alone the things they produced. Gratefully, she accepted the ready cup from him with a small bow of her head and took a sip. Wow - she would need to ask what brand this was; it was the perfect thing to put in her office for her clients! 

“This is wonderful, thank you so much!”

Her praise seemed to bring a grin to the principal’s face, although it was hard to tell with him. 

“Not at all! It’s good to have you back. Now, let’s get down to why I asked you here. Have you considered my offer?” 

Getting right into it, then. She gave a tentative smile, “Yes sir, I have.”

“And?”

“I’ll do it, although I’ve got a couple of questions about the whole thing.”

At that, Nezu let out an honest-to-god laugh. 

“Still as curious as ever, Kuramoto-san! I’m so happy you’ve accepted! Please, fire away,” he made a gesture with his hands, indicating that he was more than happy to answer her.

“Well, first of all, why me? I haven’t been back here in years, and surely there are plenty of counselors with far more experience who’d give their right arm to work here?” she shifted in her seat, tugging and twisting at a loose piece of hair that had fallen into her face. Damn her inferiority complex, but she always found it hard to believe when someone seemed to consider her as a first choice. 

“Why you? That’s easy!” He pulled out a manila folder, seemingly from nowhere. Where on earth had he been hiding that? Opening the folder’s cover, Akane was greeted with a grainy photo of her fifteen-year-old self. Jesus, had she always been so scrawny? Heedless of her surprise, Nezu continued, “Let’s see here… ‘Kuramoto Akane, hero course, nightmare manifestation quirk…,’ if I remember correctly, you were in the top three of your class, were you not? That quirk of yours was exceptionally powerful.”

 

“Yes, sir, I was - but I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re getting at here? After I took my full license exam, I never actually became a hero. I went to university and studied psychology. If anyone should be a counselor to the students, shouldn’t it be someone who has more experience with the pro-hero world than I do?” 

 

That laugh again. Akane was starting to wonder if she was part of some private joke Nezu was amusing himself with.

“Not at all! In fact, I decided upon you because you decided not to go Pro. You realised that being a Hero was not what you wanted to do, and despite enormous pressure to continue anyway, you left that world behind you after graduation. You understood that you would have been unhappy in the life others chose for you, and you took action. That is the kind of person who should be counseling our students; too many children feel trapped in the expectations of Hero lifestyle, or even in those of everyday and family life. I believe that having someone like you around, someone who took the path that made you happy instead of living up to the standards of others would do them a world of good.”

She was silent for a moment. Did Nezu really see that much in her? She had entered the Hero Course to learn to control her quirk before it destroyed her, and left because she felt she was more use on a mundane level of problem-solving - to her, it had always been as simple as that. She had wanted to help others, especially others like her, and counseling had seemed the best option for that. But Nezu seemed to believe that her decision really was for the better, and wanted her to impart what little wisdom she had on the students of tomorrow. Truly, she was quite speechless.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.

“Oh.. Wow… I’m not really sure what to say. I guess- uh, I guess that negates all my other questions, then.” She pushed her glasses up onto her nose, smiling slightly. “When can I start?”

Nezu clapped his hands in delight, jumping up from his seat. 

“Wonderful! We can get you settled in by the start of next week! But first, I think I should introduce you to some of the staff here - class is over for the day, so they should all be in the lounge getting ready for patrols,” he looked at her as he walked towards the door, gesturing for Kuramoto to follow, “don’t worry; seeing as you haven’t had your license renewed in a while, I don’t expect you to join in. But come and meet them - it will be good to have some familiar faces when you start the job properly. Who knows, some of them you may already know anyway!” 

His words proved shockingly correct. The moment she stepped through the lounge door, she was nearly bowled over by a pair of arms and legs barraging into her to the deafening squeal of  
“KURO-CHAAAAN!”   
There was only one person in the world who would have called her that. 

 

Her suspicions were confirmed as she regained her footing and came face to face with none other than Kageyama Kalri, her schoolyard best friend that she hadn’t seen in almost a decade. 

“Kal!? What on earth are you doing here?” 

The other woman grinned, finally freeing Akane from the tight hug she had trapped her in. 

“I teach here, silly! And so do you, it seems! C’mon, I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

Even as she allowed herself to be pulled this way and that, meeting various heroes that she had heard of and some that she hadn’t (even some she had spoken to in highschool once or twice), she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her - and not in the way that she was used to. It was then she realised that there was one person she hadn’t met yet. Standing in the corner watching intently was a man that seemed eerily familiar. Jet black hair covered most of his face, the rest being nearly hidden in a strange scarf-looking device. With a five-o’clock shadow and the darkest eye-bags she had ever seen on anyone other than herself, he looked about as tired as she felt. He was watching her intently, his expression unreadable, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen him before.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Like a mindreader, Kal was already dragging her over to the man in question.

“Kuro-chan, this is my mentor, Eraserhead, also known as Aizawa Shouta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO FIRST MEETING!!! Side note, Kal belongs to the amazing @ohbird bc she's such a great character and I couldn't resist putting her in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa hadn't expected to see the strange girl from the cafeteria again after she disappeared ten years ago. How wrong he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohh boy this is my first time writing Aizawa's POV and it feels super ooc but goddamnit it adds to the story so I gotta do it.

If someone had asked Aizawa who he thought the next person to walk through the door of the teachers’ lounge would be, he probably would have answered Cementoss or one of the other teachers, and then told that someone to stop asking such stupid questions. Never in a million years would he have guessed it to be the kind, quiet girl who had confused him so in his own time as a student at UA, now fully grown and laughing in delight as the ‘reformed’ vigilante he had been placed in charge of nearly bowled her over with a hug. Her form had filled out some, and her limbs no longer looked disproportional or awkward on her body - she’d grown into her features well. In the same way, she gave off a significantly more relaxed aura, although he could sense that there was still tension beneath the surface. She had changed, clearly, but he knew almost instinctively that it was her. 

He could only stare as Kageyama threw herself at the blonde standing in the doorway - how did they know each other? Watching the exchange with feigned nonchalance, he listened to the conversation between them, hoping to find out why she was back. His answer came so quickly that if he hadn’t been paying attention he would have missed it. She would be working here? Now that was interesting. Nezu had mentioned bringing on a new staff member, but given his disinterest in anything that didn’t directly involve him or his students, he hadn’t put much thought into it. That had changed with her arrival.

Despite his efforts not to stare, Shouta couldn’t help but sneak glances as she was paraded around the room by Kagayama, whom he’d been bullied into ‘supervising’ (babysitting was a more accurate term). Questions pushed their way unbidden into the forefront of his mind as he watched - where had she been for the past ten years? What would she be working as? Would she remember him? 

wait, what? 

He had to physically shake that thought from his head. Why on earth would she remember him? And more importantly, why should he care? He had taken an interest in her at school, yes, but that was a professional curiosity - a student who seemed more concerned with everyday kindnesses than grand heroism was an anomaly that had caught his attention; she showed the potential to be a great hero, which was more than he could say for most of the others in his classes. 

That led him to the next question; what had happened to her? One of the only solid things he knew about her was that she was in the year below him, and following his own graduation he had expected to hear of her debut as a Pro at some point in the future. 

It had never happened.

It was as if she had dropped off the face of the earth - no mention of her anywhere. Of course, it didn’t help that he had never learned her name. Mentioning her to anyone else seemed somehow like letting them in on a secret he wanted to keep for himself, and so he had never asked around. Hizashi would never have let him hear the end of it if he had asked in the first place. 

Before he realised what was happening, Kageyama was standing in front of him, hand-in-hand with the other young woman, a wide, impish grin plastered on her freckled face.

“Kuro-chan, this is my mentor, Eraserhead, also known as Aizawa Shouta. Eraserhead, meet Kuramoto Akane, my best friend and the new school psychologist!”

Kuramoto Akane. That was her name. After so many years, he could finally put a name to the quiet, bespectacled girl he had been fascinated by as a teenager. It suited her strangely well.

“It’s nice to meet you; I’m sorry about Kal-chan, she can be… excitable at times,” said the woman he now knew as Kuramoto, sending a pointed glance in Kageyama’s direction. Her voice was a bit lower than he had imagined, but he found that he preferred it over the one in his head. Slow and measured, there was a cadence to it that seemed almost musical. 

Unsure what else to do, he nodded slightly at her. Up close, he realised that her eyes had the kind of dark shadows underneath that only came with multiple nights without sleep. What was keeping her awake? 

“You’re a psychologist? What are you doing at this school?” The question came out more hostile than he intended it to be, and he mentally slapped himself for his bluntness. 

If she noticed, she didn’t seem to care as she answered brightly, “I double as a quirk counselor, actually! I’ve found that understanding a child’s psyche makes helping them manage their quirk a whole lot easier, so I tend to try and get to to the cause of the issue, instead of just the effect. I guess Nezu agrees with me, so asked me to come and work here!”

Her cheeks were dusted with a light blush of excitement as she spoke, and he had to stop himself smiling a little. It was kind of cute. 

“Don’t you have other clients apart from the ones you’d get here?”

“Yup! I wasn’t gonna take the job at first because I felt like my kids- the kids that I see, that is, were more important than taking up residency here. But Nezu told me that I could keep seeing patients outside of school if I wanted, so here I am!” 

“Right.”

Her eyes seemed to move over to the wall behind him for a second, and widened in surprise.

“Oh! It’s nearly five! I have to go - my neighbour is out of town right now and I promised her I would feed her dog while she was away! I am so sorry,” the sincerity in her eyes was disarming as she began to haul her bag back over her shoulders before turning to the rest of the room, an apologetic smile playing on her lips.  
“It was so great to meet all of you - I should be starting on Monday, so if you have any students you’d particularly like me to see, write them down and give it to Kageyama and she’ll pass it on to me!”  
Shouta watched as she made her way out the door with a final wave, closing it behind her.  
Almost as soon as her footsteps were out of range, the ear-piercing voice of Hizashi was assaulting him from across the room - 

“KAGEYAMA! DUDE! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD _FRIENDS_! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET TO KNOW SOMEONE THAT CUTE AND INNOCENT?! I THOUGHT YOU JUST HUNG AROUND IN DARK ALLEYS AND BEAT PEOPLE UP!!!”

The tiny brunette pain in his backside gave out a laugh, leaning against the wall.  
“We went to school together, genius! Same year, same class. We were both kind of weirdos so we just ended up hanging out together. And believe me, she’s far from innocent.”

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, HOLD UP - SHE WAS IN THE HERO COURSE?! YOU’RE ONLY A YEAR YOUNGER THAN ME AND ERASERHEAD! HOW COME I NEVER NOTICED HER? AND WHY THE HELL IS SHE A _PSYCHOLOGIST?”_

 

His indignance only served to send Kageyama into another peal of laughter, finally settling down a little as she answered,

“I’m not surprised she slipped under your radar - she was like, super shy at school. People were always weirded out by her quirk, so I guess she was just used to being in the background.”

Finally, Mic seemed to have calmed down enough to be speaking at his usual, though still uncomfortably loud volume, instead of the screaming-through-a-megaphone voice he saved for special occasions,

“Weirded out by her quirk? Why? What kind of quirk does she have?”

“She can project people’s nightmares out into the real world - it’s pretty crazy. Problem is, when she does it, these like, red and black eyes appear all over her body to act as projectors for it. It’s like something straight out of one of those horror mangas,” Kalri paused, adding,  
“I think it’s awesome, but she’s super self-conscious about it, so maybe don’t mention it too much, ‘kay?”

“I mean, sure. But if she was in the hero course, how come she never became a hero? Something like that would be amazing in a fight!”

It was then that Shouta spoke, his voice seeming to move before his brain could stop it.

“Maybe she decided that being a Pro-Hero was less important than helping people on a personal level. It makes sense, I guess. Why put yourself through that kind of stress if you’re better suited to helping people with their internal demons rather than external?”

Hizashi’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, and Shouta realised that he’d made a grave mistake.

“Wait… Shy, in the year below us, weird quirk… SHOUTA, IS THAT THE GIRL YOU USED TO STARE AT DURING LUNCH WHILE I WAS TRYING TO TALK TO YOU?!?!?!?!” 

He rolled his eyes, shrugging the capture weapon higher up onto his face so that nobody could see the slight redness starting to appear.

“Don’t be an idiot, Mic.”

At that moment, Kageyama spoke up. God, couldn’t she keep her mouth shut for one fucking minute?

“Wait, what girl? What am I missing here?”

Mic was practically bouncing up and down as he turned to the shorter woman, eager to tell the tale, 

 

“Okay, so in third year, me and Energy Saver here used to sit at the same table every lunch. Every single time I was trying to tell a story, he was always looking behind me and not listening! Eventually I went to see what he was staring at, and turns out he was like, obsessed with this girl in the second year with blonde hair and glasses who was apparently, like, super powerful but didn’t like using her quirk. It was fuckin’ weird, man - Shouta’s only highschool crush and all he did was stare at her like a stalker!”

“I was not ‘obsessed’ with her, nor did I have any kind of romantic feelings towards her. She showed potential, and I was curious. That was all.” Alright, so maybe that was a slight understatement, but the point stood.

“SO IT _IS_ HER!!”

He was fighting a losing battle here, and he knew it. Sighing, he began to walk towards the door,  
“Believe what you want, Mic. I have more important things to do than argue with you about something that happened over a decade ago.” 

“YOU CAN WALK AWAY FROM ME, ERASERHEAD, BUT YOU CAN’T RUN FROM THE TRUTH!!”

“Not running. Walking.”

With that, he closed the door behind him with rather more force than necessary. God, he wanted a nap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo.. this is a bit of a filler chapter bc i wasn't sure what else to do. BUT I promise I'll start getting into some more exciting stuff soon so please bear with me.

God, she wanted a nap. Locking the apartment door behind her and slugging her bag to the ground, it was all Akane could do not to collapse onto the couch then and there. Now that the neighbour’s dog, Koko, had been fed, she was essentially free to do what she wanted with what remained of the afternoon. The bed was calling her name with an insanely alluring siren song, but she wasn’t quite ready to face those demons yet.

Leaning against the kitchen counter as last night’s leftovers spun in the microwave, her mind drifted back to the day’s events. She certainly hadn’t been expecting to see Kal again after so many years with no contact, but she was insanely thankful that she had. Her friend was still the snarky larger-than-life personality stuck in a tiny body that she remembered, and Kuro was glad of it. As much as she hated to admit it, the years after her graduation from UA had been undeniably lonely; her preoccupation with her studies and an introverted disposition left her with little time or motivation to socialise. Even after she left university, her work took priority over leisure time - she had always viewed the children she saw as people she had a duty towards, attested to by countless nights awake reviewing files and researching treatment strategies. Not that she would have been sleeping anyway.

Maybe with Kal around, it would be easier for her to come out of her shell somewhat. Her friend always seemed to have the gift of making Akane burst out laughing at top volume, coaxing her to step out of her self-imposed isolation and into the world around them. If she didn’t know better, she would say that Kal’s quirk had something to do with making people laugh, not superhuman regeneration.

The piercing wail of the microwave timer brought her from her reflective haze, nearly scaring her speechless. Sitting on the couch eating day-old food from a plastic tupperware box might not have been the most glamorous way to spend the evening, but if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t mind it as much as she probably should have. It was peaceful here - nobody to interrupt her thoughts or stress her out, and if her quirk decided to make an appearance, she didn’t have to worry about accidentally traumatising someone.

Kuramoto rarely admitted it, but her powers were probably the biggest reason she had become so reluctant to engage with others in casual settings. People never said it to her face, but she had always known her quirk was somehow  _different_ from those around her. Humans were prideful creatures, and having their deepest fears and insecurities played out in front of them like an audience-interactive short film wasn’t exactly conducive to making friends. Then there were the eyes - if being a human fear-detector wasn’t freaky enough, the projectors in her skin that liked to make themselves known whenever her emotions were too intense only added to the sense of unease that settled over a room whenever quirks were mentioned in her presence. Almost as soon as her powers had manifested, whispers followed her from room to room, telling each other that her quirk was... Strange. Creepy.

Villainous.

She had given up trying to prove them wrong directly. By her logic, it was better to avoid mentioning it when she could, and simply do what she was able to in order to prove that, despite what her quirk might suggest, she was a _good person_.

The lukewarm meal now finished and left to soak in the sink, she returned to the couch, fighting a yawn. She wasn’t going to let herself sleep yet - putting that off as long as she could seemed like the best idea tonight. Akane wasn’t an insomniac, per se - if she allowed herself, sleep would hit her like a hammer on a nail. The problem was, when she slept, all the nightmares her brain had absorbed throughout the day came back in full force; if night terrors had an even scarier older sibling, that was probably what Kuro dealt with at night. Getting an hour, maybe two, of sleep a night was normal for her. It wasn’t pleasant, but with white-knuckled determination and a seemingly endless supply of energy drinks, she made it work.

Suddenly, her phone gave off an alert. Funny, she didn’t usually get texts at this hour. Picking up her device curiously, she saw a message from a number she didn’t know.

 

[UNKNOWN]: KURO!!!!! how u doing?! nezu gave me ur number!!

 

She smirked in amusement, knowing exactly who would have sent her a text like that.

 

[KURAMOTO AKANE]: Hey Kal. I’m doing well, how about you?

[UNKNOWN]: dude u need to stop being so formal when you text its weird

[UNKNOWN]: anyway congrats on getting the job!!! ur gonna like it here - everyones all nice and hero-y like u

[UNKNOWN] well except eraserhead but hes a dick anyway so it doesnt matter

 

Eraserhead. He was the one Kal introduced as her mentor, right? It was strange, apart from Present Mic, who seemed to make an impression anywhere he went, Aizawa Shouta was the only other person she’d talked to whose face she remembered clearly. He had seemed exhausted when they spoke, although maybe that was just because she was boring him with her psychology rambling.

Despite that, she couldn’t deny that he was sort of attractive in a strange way; tired as they might be, his eyes gave off a sharp intelligence that the sapiosexual in her couldn’t ignore. And the sense of familiarity she had felt when she looked at him was odd, like she’d somehow known him for years. She wondered if he had felt it too? Was that what people meant when they talked about ‘love at first sight’?

Whoah. Okay, _no_.

That was _not_ the kind of bullshit she needed to be thinking about right now. Love at first sight was another way to describe infatuation, which all the fairytales in the world couldn’t stop from being a blind idolisation that more often than not was indicative of an unhealthy view on relationships and human interaction as a whole. That was not what she was feeling. Curiosity? Yes. A slight attraction? Maybe. But _that_? Hell no.

 

[UNKNOWN]: helloooo? earth to akane???

Shit. She’d totally forgotten the conversation that had started her rather embarrassing train of thought.

[KURAMOTO AKANE]: Sorry, I was cleaning the kitchen.

[KURAMOTO AKANE]: Yes, I’m very excited to be working with you! It was so nice to see you again!

[UNKNOWN]: right back atcha! how’s life?

 

The next few hours were spent in idle conversation, catching each other up on what had been happening since they had last seen each other. Kal’s past as a vigilante wasn’t exactly surprising - she had always been too hot-headed for her own good, and something like failing her exams were never going to stop her doing what she wanted to do. Before she even realised it, Akane had fallen asleep with her phone dropped on her chest, legs splayed at an odd angle on the couch. Nightmares be damned, she needed to get _some_ sleep, at least.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Waking up on Monday proved to be more of a chore than Akane would have liked. For some reason, her nightmares were never quite as severe when she was catching a few hours at the start of the day. For this reason, she usually began work quite late by normal standards, taking her first patient at around 12pm. But she wasn’t her own boss anymore, and since school started at 8:30am, she would need to be there at least an hour beforehand.

 

Groaning, she practically rolled herself off the couch, landing on the floor with a muffled ‘thud!’. Her back ached horribly from a night of sleeping in such an awkward position, and she swore she could actually hear the vertebrae crack into place as she stood - maybe she should get Recovery Girl to take a look? If nothing else, one of the perks of being back at UA was that she had access to the woman who was arguably the best healer in the country.    
  


One rather uninspiring breakfast later and Kuro found herself standing in front of her closet, debating what to wear. She’d never been particularly fussy about her appearance, but it was her first day at this job, and it wouldn’t make a good impression if she didn’t put effort into looking presentable. What had the other teachers been wearing when she met them? Thinking back, she realised that they were all in their Hero Outfits. 

 

Well, that was a no-go. 

 

An involuntary smile made its way onto her face as she thought back to her own costume, long outgrown and barely worn. Now  _ that _ would be an interesting day if she ever got it resized.

 

Finally, she decided on a light blue sweater that was just slightly too big for her, and a pair of long black slacks she’d had since before she graduated but somehow still managed to look new. For a moment, she had considered wearing a blazer and pencil skirt like the ones worn in offices, but decided against it. Kids were more likely to open up to her if she didn’t look intimidating, and she got the sense that wearing something like that would make them feel more like they were being interrogated than anything else. Not a recipe for a healthy therapist-patient relationship.

 

With her clothes picked and her bag packed, she was ready to go. Suddenly, it became hard to shake the feeling of this being her first day at school as a student, rather than a staff member. The memory of that day all those years ago was still fresh in her mind, right down to the mismatched purple and blue socks she had been wearing because they were the only ones not in the wash. She had been so young, and so scared. 

 

Fighting back her exhaustion, she made her way out the door and towards her new job.    
  


 

At first, she thought she was the first one to arrive for the day, judging by the darkness still surrounding the teachers’ lounge. This was a good thing, she reminded herself - with nobody around, it would be a hell of a lot easier to unpack her office and get everything in working order that much faster. She was proved wrong, however, by the annoyed grunt that met her ears when she flicked on the light. Stifling a scream, she jumped back in shock, looking for the source of the noise. Curled up on the couch was a mass of black hair tucked into a yellow sleeping bag that she realised with a pang of guilt belonged to Aizawa Shouta, who was now staring at her with a mix of annoyance and surprise in his red-rimmed eyes.    
  
“Eraserhead! O-Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were sleeping here or I wouldn’t have turned the lights on!” Her stammering was as much an annoyance to herself as anyone else, making it hard to actually get her message across.   
  
Silently, he sat upright and unzipped the sleeping bag, revealing the exact same clothes he was wearing the previous day. How many copies of the same outfit did he own?! Regardless, she continued with her stuttered apology,

 

“I’m really, really sorry. I know how hard it is to actually get sleep sometimes and I would never have woken you up if I had known, please don’t-”

 

“It’s fine,” he cut her off, the authority in his tone catching her a little off-guard. “It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”

 

Even after being rudely awakened from what Akane presumed was a much-needed nap, he still managed to come off as commanding. A tiny voice in the back of her head whispered to her,

 

_ ‘that’s kind of hot.’ _

 

_ ‘fuck you, tiny voice.’ _ the rest of her whispered back.

  
He looked at her apathetically for a moment, “You’re the psychologist, right?”

 

She nodded with slightly more enthusiasm than strictly necessary. 

 

“Yep! I’m starting today!”

 

Aizawa’s gaze never faltered from her; it was like he could see into her soul, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

 

“You’re early. School doesn’t start for another hour.”

 

And they were back to square one.    
  
“Well, yeah, but since today’s my first day and all, I thought I should get here early and, uh, organise my office… and stuff…” the intensity of his stare was going right to her cheeks, colouring them a light shade of red that she was glad the dim light masked somewhat.

  
Then she felt it.    
  


Oh. 

 

Oh no.

 

Oh god  _ no _ .

 

Already, she could feel the stretching of skin against her neck, preparing to part and reveal a large red-and-black eye. God  _ damn _ it, did this always have to happen when she was flustered? Couldn’t she have  _ one _ slightly embarrassing conversation without going into defense mode? She needed to get out of here, without letting him see the horror that was beginning to form against her main artery. Her stuttering increased as she added, at a slightly louder volume than necessary,

 

“Oh! That reminds me! I have boxes that I, um, that I need to unpack… I should really get going! Don’t want to be behind schedule!!”   
  


Not waiting for a response, she practically dashed from the room, only just remembering to flick the lightswitch on her way out. As soon as she was safely alone in the hallway, her right hand delivered a hard slap to the side of her neck, forcing the eye shut. 

 

That was close. That was way too close. Thankfully, the Erasure Hero seemed too tired to realise what was happening, or the entire thing could have been a whole lot worse. Her breath seemed to echo in her ears as she made her way down the hall towards her office, silently exalting whatever Deity might be up there for saving that particular embarrassment for another day. 

  
  


Back in the lounge, a pair of bloodshot eyes had yet to pull themselves away from the doorway where moments before, Kuramoto Akane had been frantically apologising for pulling them from their slumber. Strangely, he found himself less annoyed than he thought he’d be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's that person with the angst and flimsy plotting? It's Ace!

 

_ Cold. Everything was so _ cold _. One moment, the four-year-old had been huddled safe and warm under the covers, squeezing the stuffed dog in her arms with childish affection, the next, a wind colder than the heart of the Arctic circle was breezing through her room, sending her small body into uncontrollable shivers. Peeking out from where she had just been tucked into bed, the toddler felt her eyes widen in fear, her heart about to beat out of her tiny chest. A darkness that seemed too all-encompassing to be natural had engulfed the room at the back of the house, infecting her with an overwhelming sense of panic.  _

 

_ It was choking her, forcing its way down her lungs and through her system until she couldn’t even scream.  There was nothing there. And yet, the nothingness was impossibly terrifying. The silence seemed to screech at her, begging her to call it forth - to call to the nameless fear now embedded in the very foundations of the building. And as if in a trance, she did.  _

 

_ The walls had eyes. And mouths. And features too convoluted for her immature brain to begin to comprehend. A shriek died in her throat as the shapeless darkness began to take form, too many dark limbs and gaping maws to be human. The child began to scramble backwards, entangled in the trapping blankets that had once provided her with a false sense of protection. She could practically feel her blood pumping in her veins, adrenaline and fear speeding through her like water gushing from broken floodgates. Even in her sleep-addled state, she somehow knew this creature - she had never seen it before, but the grasping fingers and low moans of pain were so familiar to her that the horror of recognition sparked behind young eyes.   _

 

_ She knew what this was from, or, rather, who this was from.  _

 

_ There had been a child at her kindergarten who had seen a fatal car-crash in the moments of its aftermath. She didn’t know much apart from what was overheard in the hurried whispers of adults towering above her. What she did know was that the figure crawling towards her was the thing her classmate had seen on the side of a road, all tangled limbs and broken cries for help.  This creature that haunted the dreams of another had once been human, distorted by the traumatised mind of a child experiencing for the first time the visceral reality of death. That knowledge didn’t make it any less terrifying.  _

 

_ Tears spilled in hot, thick streams, clouding her vision. All the while, the phantom made its way across the floor in slow, pained movements as if swimming through molasses, drawing closer, ever closer. Trembling hands moved up to shield her face, but that simple defensive motion resulted in a fresh stab of horror, one that ripped a scream that broke through the invisible barrier of silence surrounding her. She wasn’t supposed to have eyes there.  _

 

_ Her shriek triggered movement in the rest of the house, and a light flicked on in the hallway. The scene her parents walked into was one of their daughter cowering in fear as tendrils of darkness dissipated into the now lit room. What they hadn’t been expecting was for her to be covered in what seemed like hundreds of inhuman red and black eyes, glowing softly with a pulsating red light. That was when the truth of what had happened began to set in.  _

 

_ Her quirk had manifested.  _

 

In the years that followed, Akane’s control (or lack of such) over her quirk had consumed the once peaceful family life she had known for a short time. Constant night terrors and incidents at school had taken their toll on the Kuramoto household, leaving her parents exhausted shells of themselves and their daughter as timid as a mouse, afraid of the harm she could cause. 

 

She knew that the divorce was her fault, even if they tried to convince her otherwise. Sure, they might have had other problems in their relationship apart from a child who brought forth people’s worst fears, but the strain and sleeplessness caused by her quirk meant that the fights they had were escalated and exacerbated until nobody could stand it any longer. At ten years old, the burden of caring for her and helping her control her powers was split down the middle, dividing her time between her mother and father. She still hadn’t shed the guilt she felt for being the cause of the fallout - in fact, she rarely spoke to either of her parents anymore, the wound was still so fresh in her mind. 

 

Sitting at her new desk, mouth focused on the repetitive motions brought by the lollipop between her fingers, Kuro couldn’t quite bring herself to cry. She rarely could anymore, although tears stung in the corners of her eyes like pinpricks. The day had been a tornado of introductions and paperwork, effectively ripping her mind from the embarrassing occurrence that morning. Somehow, in one of her few moments of rest that day, her thoughts had wandered to the early memories she tried so hard not to dwell on. Maybe being in a building filled with children whose quirks were just starting to reach their peak set off the sudden trip in her subconscious dam? 

 

Even if she never spoke about it, that pain and sense of responsibility for the grief she had caused her family had never truly gone away; in fact, it sometimes felt as raw as it did on the day her parents had sat her down and told her they were splitting up. Nowadays, she buried those feelings under mountains of work and a cheery demeanour, but in reality, that was what drove her to do the work that she did. In the same way that she couldn’t allow personal struggles go ignored while larger threats were dealt with, she wouldn’t let another family go through what hers had. No kid should be saddled with the emotions that had consumed her at that age. No parents should have to stand idle and afraid while their child was torn up by something inside of them. Not again. 

 

A cautious knock at the closed door set her spine into the steel-pole it usually stayed as. Wiping the fog away from her rounded lenses, she fought back the slight waver in her voice as she called out in what she hoped was her normal, chipper tone,

 

“Come on in!” 


	8. Chapter 8

 

The door swung open with a slight creaking sound to reveal a boy of about fifteen with dark green hair and freckles dusted across a timid face. 

  
“I-Is this the school counsellor’s office?” 

  
He looked so unsure of himself, Akane couldn’t help her heart from melting slightly as she smiled encouragingly at him.  
  
“It is now! And you’re my first student visitor! Come through and sit down!” She chirped, gesturing to the armchair in front of her. Her first patient! Her excitement to start getting to know the cohort of UA now took up the forefront of her attention, brushing away the near breakdown she was dealing with moments earlier. The boy sat cautiously, looking somewhat unsure of himself.  
  
Clipboard in hand, she curled herself into her own seat, knees tucked under themselves. “Now - first thing’s first; what’s your name?”

 

“Oh- uh, Midoriya Izuku!”

 

So _this_ was Izuku! Her grin widened in delight; she had heard a bit about this one through various teachers. He was in the Hero Course, but until only a few months ago had been thought to be quirkless. That changed at the entrance exams, where he apparently saved another applicant from being crushed by a robot using an exceptionally powerful quirk that broke several of his bones.

Talk about a late bloomer - just goes to show how strangely someone’s powers can manifest sometimes.  
  
“Well, it’s good to meet you, Izuku. I’m Kuramoto Akane - please, just call me Kuro if you would like.”

 

The boy nodded, looking slightly more at ease. “Thank you, Kuramo- _Kuro_ -sensei.”

 

With one hand writing notes on the clipboard and the other twirling the sucker in her mouth, she looked up with a smile. “So, Izuku, do you have any particular reason why you decided to visit me today? Or were you just popping in to say ‘hi’?” 

 

He fidgeted slightly in his seat, seemingly trying to formulate his answer.  
  
“Well, um… I heard there was a new psychologist and, um, All-Might told me he thought I might like to speak to you about, uh.. school and stuff.”  
  
All-Might had sent him to see her? She bit back her surprise.

 

Akane had met the top hero earlier that morning, having been taken to meet the other staff members at Present Mic’s insistence. Truthfully, it had been a little scary. She had enormous respect for the man, of course - his work was the stuff comic-books could only dream of! But Kuro barely cleared 5’5”, and coming face-to-face with someone who would have towered over someone twice her size was actually kind of terrifying. Not to mention, his voice had a booming quality to it that made her cringe slightly; she was the kind of person who tended to startle at loud noises, so having both All-Might and Present Mic talking to her at the same time was overwhelming, to say the least. 

 

Despite that, he seemed like a genuine and down-to-earth person, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that he shared her trepidation at joining the school faculty as a new staff member. It was nice to know that someone with so much prestige and hero-worship (literally!) surrounding them was still fairly grounded in reality.  
  
What she hadn’t expected was for him to take such a personal interest in the wellbeing of his students - with so many young children vying for his attention, it would have been perfectly reasonable for him to simply teach them and limit his involvement elsewhere. Instead, he had taken the time to recommend her to a student he must have noticed needed help somewhere outside the classroom. A newfound respect for the gargantuan man bubbled in her chest.

 

“All-Might sent you? How thoughtful - it’s always good to see teachers looking after their students like that!”  
  
At her praise of the hero, Izuku’s entire face seemed to light up with excitement.  
  
“Yeah! All-Might is amazing! I mean he’s such a big hero and he’s come here to teach us how to do the same thing! And especially seeing as agency was against it ‘cause they said it would retract from his other responsibilities. We’re really lucky!”  
  
Akane could feel her affection for the kid building; it was always endearing to see children talk about something they were passionate about, and Midoriya seemed totally enamoured by All-Might. 

 

“You guys certainly are very fortunate. When I was here, our teachers were very good, of course, but I suppose All-Might is on a whole different level! I have to ask, why do you think he told you specifically to come and talk with me - are you having trouble with something at school?”

 

He seemed to shrink back into himself at her question, finally responding, “Well… I guess he might have thought I was having trouble fitting in with the others…”  
  
“And are you?”

 

“I- not exactly…” he sighed a little, “they all seem to really like me, but I… I keep feeling like I don’t belong there, like I’ve cheated somehow. I want to be a hero - it’s what I’ve always wanted, but it feels like all my classmates are so much more worthy of being here than I am.”  
  
And just like that, the dam broke. Kuro knew right then that she would do all she could to help this boy. She knew that feeling too well to let him go through it alone.  
  
“Izuku, I think that what you’re feeling is called Imposter Syndrome. Have you ever heard of it?”

He shook his head.  
  
“Imposter Syndrome is what psychologists call the feeling you get when you feel that you’ve somehow cheated the system to get where you are, and are undeserving of the praise people give you. That sound familiar?”

Izuku’s eyes widened as he nodded, bringing a smaller smile to her face.

 

“I know it can be really hard to deal with at times, but I think it helps to remember that those feelings are just that; feelings. They aren’t based in fact. You took the entrance exam, right?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“And you passed?”

“Yes, through rescue points.”

 

“Well then, that means that you deserve to be here. Nobody, not even yourself, can tell you otherwise. We’ve got concrete evidence that you’re just as worthy of being here as your classmates. I know it can be difficult to convince yourself of it, but every time you catch those thoughts and replace them with ones based in reality rather than emotion, the easier it gets to deal with.”

 

The teenager listened to her speak with an expression somewhere between awe and disbelief written on his face. After a few seconds, he replied, “Well, yeah, but I’m really not in control of my quirk yet, and during training Aizawa-Sensei is always getting us to use them and I don't know if I’m gonna be able to keep up with the rest of the class if every time I use my power I end up breaking something, and if I fall behind I’ll never be a hero and-”

 

“Whoah, slow down kiddo!” She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling from her mouth. His anxiety, as understandable as it was, had a comedic value to it that she was struggling to ignore. 

  
“Look, having difficulty controlling your quirk is hard - believe me, I know,” a small sigh escaped her at that, “but you’d be surprised how many kids who look like they know exactly what they’re doing with their powers are really just playing by ear and hoping for the best. As for Eraserhead, I can’t say I know enough about his training methods to give a verdict on them. But between you and me…” she leaned in conspiratorially, and Izuku mirrored her actions with a slightly confused look,  
  
“I would say that everyone has imposter syndrome sometimes. I wouldn't be surprised if even All-Might gets it from time to time.”

 

Midoriya’s shocked expression sent her into another peal of laughter. Of course he didn’t believe his idol ever felt like that; to him, All-Might was probably nigh invincible. It was good to have role models, of course, but hero worship was a dangerous thing if left unchecked - he needed to have an identity outside of his fixation.  
  
“Shocking, I know. But the ‘symbol of peace’ is only human, just like the rest of us. He’s got his own problems and worries. Why not ask him sometime? He might be able to talk to you more about it - it’ll help you to see him as a person instead of a superhero, I think.”

 

A look crossed his face that Akane couldn’t quite explain, as if he was aware of some greater irony in her words than she had intended. 

 

“I, um..” he rubbed the back of his neck slightly, before breaking out in a smile. “I’ll do that! Thank you, Kuro-sensei!”  
  
She returned his grin with equal vigour. “It’s my job, Mido-kun. Besides, us Hero Course kids need to help each other out, right?”

 

Again, he looked at her with wide-eyed curiosity. “You were Hero Course? What’s your hero name?” 

_  
‘Panikos.’_ the voice in the back of her head answered silently, _‘my hero name was Panikos.’_

Instead, she laughed lightly. “Oh, I never went Pro. Decided to go to university instead, get a normal job and all that.” 

 

Disappointment was clearly etched onto his face. “Oh. Why didn’t you become a hero, then?”

 

She froze. Part of her badly wanted to tell him, but another told her to keep it close to her chest.

 

“Well… I…” her stumbling was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the class bell, signalling the end of lunch. Thank God. “…. would be happy to tell you if you ever decide to come and visit me again! Now, you should be going to class before I get in trouble for keeping you!”

 

A few moments later, Izuku was heading down the hall to his homeroom, leaving Kuro alone with her thoughts. He was a sweet kid, and his dedication to his goal was evident. She desperately wanted to help him, but that would be hard if she didn’t know the full extend of his difficulties. An idea began to form in her head, and she picked up her phone almost without thinking.  
  
“Kal? Would you mind if I dropped in on you and Eraserhead during 1-A’s training tomorrow?”


	9. Chapter 9

The chilled night air whipped at Aizawa’s face and hair, stinging slightly at his eyes even through the goggles he wore when out on patrol. So far, there hadn’t been much trouble - an attempted robbery and a couple of men harassing a teenage girl were the most he had needed to deal with. As such, he’d been spending the last hour or so crouching at a vantage point that gave him a good view of the area he was scouting that night. Not otherwise occupied, his mind began to wander, although he kept his eyes sharp for any indication of danger.    
  
_ Kageyama had mentioned that Kuramoto wanted to look in on his class’s training, although he couldn’t imagine why a school psychologist would have any interest in what he did with his students’ physical training. Usually, he would have refused without a second thought - he didn’t need to be distracted from his work by constant questioning. But for whatever reason, he had consented. He justified it to himself with the fact that in the short time he had properly known her, and the year or so he’d observed her at school, he got the impression that she’d be sparing with her inquiries and would otherwise remain as out of the way as possible.  _

 

_ That afternoon, he’d be putting them through drills to test reaction times and strategies for defensive uses of their quirks. The class was going over warm ups when the observer’s figure became visible making her way over to them. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, wayward strands sticking out and framing her face, dark eyes seeming lighter with the sunlight filtering through their irises. What drew his attention, however, was the lollipop between her teeth - strawberry by the looks of it, the vibrant red sticking out against the soft pink of her slightly parted lips. Her tongue darted out occasionally, licking at the spherical candy with a tentative rhythm. It was distracting, to say the least.  _

 

_ Okay, time to stop staring.  _

 

_ He forced his attention back to the class, only to find that they too were looking at Kuramoto - or, more accurately, Kageyama practically hurtling herself at Kuramoto.  _

 

_ “Aizawa-sensei, who’s that?” Mina asked, the bug-like child’s attention being similarly occupied by the scene. _ __   
_   
_ _ “This is Kuramoto Akane, the school counselor. I’ve agreed to let her watch today’s training,” a murmur ran through the class, earning a glare that enforced silence yet again as he continued, “her presence should have no effect on your exercises whatsoever, and I expect you all to behave in a way that shows her you have at least  _ some __ respect for the school and each other.” At that point, his stare went pointedly to Bakugou, who scowled in return.   

 

_ Throughout the class, Kuramoto remained firmly attached to Kal’s side, occasionally asking questions but mostly just watching the lesson. Every so often, he caught her gaze on him, an expression somewhere between curiosity and apprehension painted on her features. He ignored it - after all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been stealing glances at her several times; his eyes always seemed to fix their attention on that damned lollipop, no matter how many times he pulled them away.  _

__   
_ Even from a few meters away, he could hear the quiet conversation between the two women, the sound carried by the open air. _ __   
__   
_ “Who’s the kid sparring with Izuku? The one with the explosions going off around him,” she asked. So she’d already met Midoriya? When had that happened? _ __   
_   
_ __ “That’s Bakugou Katsuki,” Kal answered, “There’s a chemical in his sweat that has explosive properties; he and Midoriya are like, childhood rivals or some shit. He’s a little asshole, but I gotta admit that he’s grown on me.” 

 

_ That didn’t exactly surprise him - Kageyama wasn’t technically a teacher, so had a little more leeway with how she treated the kids, which meant she could call Bakugou out on his antics more readily and in a slightly more colourful way than Aizawa was allowed to, no matter how much he wanted to. He got the sense that meant Bakugou had slightly more respect for her because of it.  _ __   
_   
_ __ “Wow, seeing them all like this is such a throwback to when we were in school,” Kuromoto’s voice had a slightly wistful quality to it as she continued, “do you remember when we used to spar with each other after class? We found that clearing near the school and went at it for hours.” 

 

_ “Yeah, well, you needed to actually spar with someone without being afraid of, like, traumatizing them or something - you went way too easy on people in class, so I decided to do it myself,” came Kal’s amused response. Come to think of it, Shouta had never seen her in combat training while they were at school, though not for lack of trying.  _

 

_ “Don’t remind me,” she laughed, “anyway, the facilities have definitely been updated since we graduated - I didn’t even know half of this stuff existed!” _

 

_ “Of course they’ve been upgraded,” he responded without thinking. “The school makes sure that all the technology in the training gyms are state-of-the-art. There was a malfunction in one of the training robots back when I was a student that ended up with the entire set getting replaced.” _ __   
_   
_ __ “OH! I think I remember that! It was such a silly thing, too! Didn’t it end up backhanding one of the students across the room when they were running past it?” Her laugh echoed in his ears like bells, sending a tiny smile tugging involuntarily at the corner of his mouth. 

 

_ “That’s the one. Do you remember what happened to the kid?” He asked - he honestly couldn’t remember. Just like that, the laughter died away, an embarrassed flush taking its place on her freckled cheeks.  _

 

_ “I, um.. No. I don’t think so… I hope they were okay. I’m sorry, I wish I could remember.” _

 

_ “It’s alright. I was just curious.” He replied, unsure of what else to do.  _

 

_ The rest of the lesson passed in awkward silence, though he often wondered if there was a way he could restart the conversation. It seemed too forced to attempt, however, so he simply let it be, even if his attention continually dropped to the sweet being twirled around in her mouth, occasionally affording him a flash of her tongue and teeth.  _

 

Even now, his mind kept going back to the image replaying in his head. God, he needed to think of something else - this wasn’t healthy. Almost as if someone was answering his prayers, a scream went up a few blocks away. Just like that, he was launching himself across the city rooftops, making his way towards the source of the noise. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it, regardless of internal distractions posed by thoughts of what else a pair of plush pink lips would look good doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO - next chapter we finally get into some of the actual plot and not just my dumb self-indulgent mutual pining BS so stay tuned I guess


	10. Chapter 10

 

The call of distress came from a small park off to the side of a few residential streets - a playground stood in the centre, the swings and climbing frames seeming to sway slightly in the wind like ghostly reflections of what they were in the light. A streetlamp stood overhead, casting an eerie light on the metal frames and dew-soaked grass. Landing with a soft ‘thump’, Aizawa’s first instinct was to scan the area for signs of a struggle and find whoever had been calling for help. He didn’t have to look for long. About thirty feet away, two figures were grappling with each other, small noises and grunts from the effort carrying across the expanse of grass and steel. 

 

Approaching quietly in order to retain a level of surprise when he decided to act, he could see the actuality of the fight in a clearer light. The attacker was short, their face and body almost totally covered apart from their hands, which were bare. Despite the aggression suggested by their attacks, it was clear that they were a largely inexperienced fighter, often seeming to charge headfirst at their target where a well-timed push kick or knee to the side of the face would have sent them sprawling to the ground. They were all anger and energy, without the strategic thought that would have tempered them. Easy enough to take down. Even so, the hapless victim seemed to be struggling to retaliate, instead curled up on themselves, the occasional raspy cough or plea for mercy echoing through the evening. 

 

Glancing at the aggressor, it was then that he saw what was incapacitating the civilian in such a way; on the palms of their uncovered hands were what looked like small metal vents, billowing a milky white gaseous substance like spittle from the mouth of some abominable monster. It filtered through the air in lazy, languid tendrils, filling the lungs of the figure huddled on the ground clutching their stomach in agony. With a wheeze, they appeared to regurgitate something, dark liquid spilling in small splatters on the ground below them. Blood. Whatever was in the gas, it was corrupting the internal organs of it’s victim and they didn’t have long. A strategy began to form in his mind. He would need to erase the villain’s quirk before getting close or he would risk being caught in it himself. If he could get them from behind, then he had a better chance of capturing them without much of a struggle, and if it came to it, defensive combat technique seemed the way to go given the outward and uncontrolled aggression. 

 

A few soft steps forward and he was in range to bind them with the capture weapon, his target seemingly too focused on beating their victim to within an inch of their lives. He activated his quirk, feeling his hair lift up and whip around him in an invisible wind. All of a sudden, it was as if the whole world stilled around them. The attacker seemed to startle at the sudden lack of gas billowing from their hands, looking around frantically for the reason it had suddenly stopped. This was his opportunity, and he took it. The capture weapon around his neck shot out, catching their wrists in a tight grip. A shocked yell fell from the person’s mouth as they tumbled towards the ground, trapped in unnaturally strong binds. Aizawa took a step forward, cautious of any remaining gas. Satisfied that the air was clear, he tapped the button on the side of his utility belt, sending his location to the local police so they would come and collect his conquest. 

 

Crouching down by the trussed up villain, he reached to pull off the black mask covering their face before recoiling in shock -  looking up at him with venomous eyes was a child that looked no more than thirteen at the very most, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl. 

 

“What the…?”

 

What the hell was a kid doing attacking random civilians - better yet, what were they doing attacking  _ anyone _ ? Concern shot through his system. He was a hero, yes, and this child had been committing assault. He had every right to restrain them and put them under arrest. But he was also a teacher, and even if he showed it in odd ways, he wanted the best for his kids - any kids, really. There was no doubt in his mind that somebody had failed this one; children didn’t become violent criminals of their own volition.    
  
The piercing wails of sirens cut his thoughts off as the red and blue lights of police cars began to swarm around the park. Moments later, the capture weapon was back around his neck, replaced on the child’s wrists by a pair of metal handcuffs as they were led away by officers in blue, questions flying like bullets. What was their name? Where were their parents? Was somebody controlling them? All enquiries that he had himself, although the subject of the attention remained stoic, glaring at the people around them with a poison in their gaze that rivalled that of their quirk. An ambulance soon arrived for the victim, hauled away on a gurney. He had severe internal bleeding and haemorrhaging, and a full toxicology report would need to be done in order to determine what course of treatment would have to be undergone, but they would survive. 

 

His job was done. With an order to the sergeant to inform him of the results of the interrogation, he began to walk away. His echoing steps were halted in their tracks when a young voice called out, causing him to turn and stare at the teenager being pushed into the back of the police van. 

 

“This is what happens when you treat someone like a villain all their lives - they become one,” their voice was shaky as if from underuse, but the conviction in their tone was unmistakable.   
“We’re just as capable as doing good, but you only see the evil. One-day, you’ll see. She’ll show you all. We’ll make you all sorry for how you’ve treated us-” 

 

the rest of their speech was cut off by the metallic bang of the vehicle door being shut, but Aizawa had heard enough. Again, he resumed his walk back home. Whatever had happened, it was more than one disenchanted teenager taking their frustrations out on the world. The surety of their voice and their references to a ‘we’ and ‘she’ was enough to set off alarms in his head. Was there some kind of underground group being formed? He had enough problems with organised villains at it was; another coven of nefarious intention was a possibility that he hated to entertain. Still, he was concerned. Tomorrow, he would need to speak with Nezu. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so I took some liberties with how Aizawa operates on patrol, but hopefully that wasn't too debilitating to the narrative. At any rate, we're finally getting into some major plot points so YAY!!


	11. Chapter 11

It was easy to see why people found the idea of UA quite intimidating - a lunchroom packed with some of Japan’s top pro heroes in full get-up was enough to make even the most irreverent citizen nervous. Or it would have been, if said heroes had any modicum of decorum around each other. Currently, it was hard to believe that they were capable of saving anyone, given the scene that greeted Kuramoto when she stepped through the door to the teachers’ lounge.    
  
“ **_KAL!!!_ ** GIVE ME BACK MY WHIP!!”   
  
“NO! YOU SAID I COULD KEEP IT IF I COULD GET IT WITHOUT YOU NOTICING!!!”   
  
“I SAID YOU COULD HOLD IT!!”

 

“TO-MAY-TO TO-MAH-TO!”

 

Kayama Nemuri, also known as the 18+ Hero, Midnight, was chasing Kal, who was holding what looked to be some kind of BDSM flogger up high above her head like a trophy, around the lounge and upturned pieces of furniture. Various other heroes including Cementoss and Present Mic were following them, trying to either calm them down or in Kal’s case, restrain them entirely.

 

Yeah, whoever said ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ was a goddamn liar.

 

Covering her ears, she edged in off to the side. Kuro had never liked loud noises, and in any other context she might have just left and found somewhere else to eat her lunch, but this was just too hilarious of a view to pass up. Vaguely, she was aware of someone else standing beside her, watching the scene unfold.    
  
“Is it always like this?” she asked, amusement soaked through her words like brandy.   
  
“Sometimes. Usually, I can keep the demon-child under control. I left for five minutes to collect some papers, and when I got back, Kal was standing on the table trying to keep that whip out of Nemuri’s hands.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like Kal. She likes to feel tall,” she murmured, her gaze sliding to the other person before tensing up immediately, “Oh! Eraserhead! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you!”

  
In all honesty, she wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous around Aizawa. She was nervous around most people, sure, but she had a harder time hiding it around him. Possibly, it had something to do with the fact that for whatever reason, she couldn’t seem to keep her quirk under control when he was around. There was also the fact that her brain kept harking back to the ridiculous conversation she’d had with herself the night after she had met him for the first time. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t seem to let it go; it had been a passing thought, nothing more. Logically debunked and dealt with, she shouldn’t be nearly as hung up on it as she was. Still, every time he looked at her it was like he knew exactly what she had been thinking, and her cheeks went red as cherries.

 

“Don’t apologise. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow slightly. Akane laughed ever so slightly, fiddling with her hair.    
  
“Yeah, I know. It’s just instinct at this point; I’m kind of a clumsy person so I’m already apologising like, twice every sentence.”

 

Aizawa made a noise that sounded like something between a laugh and a grunt, though not saying anything more. They stood in silence for a moment, watching as Nemuri finally managed to tackle Kal, bringing her down in a tangle of limbs to the general laughter and relief of others.

 

“This ended quicker than the last time something like that happened - it took about three months to repair the hole that got put through one of the walls.”    
  
Again, she couldn’t help the laughter. It was… nice, to have someone who seemed so apathetic and uninterested in the world around them share an anecdote like that.    
  
“Kal does seem to have a gift for irritating people - I’m honestly highly impressed you’ve been able to put up with her for this long.”

 

From the corner of her eye, Kuro could see his mouth twitch upwards into a barely-noticeable smirk. “Mm. Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve dealt with villains less abrasive than her,” it was then that he paused for a moment, brows furrowing as if he was debating whether or not to say something. Finally, he spoke.

“Can I ask you a question about your work?” he seemed hesitant, but her entire face lit up at the enquiry. She was never going to pass up an opportunity to share her knowledge. 

 

“Sure! I’d love that, actually!”

 

A relieved expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second.   
  
“Do children often show signs of becoming villains? Is there some common personality that means they’re more likely to turn to crime?”

 

Well, that was unexpected. She thought for a moment, mulling over the question.    
  
“I would have to say no. People are products of their circumstances, and how they handle those circumstances is more likely to indicate what they’ll become rather than any inherent traits that can be found in their psyche. Someone who becomes a ‘villain’, as you put it, may have grown up in a neighbourhood where crime was one of the only ways to support a family and so are trapped in an intergenerational cycle, or lived in a household where domestic violence was common, hence why they confront their problems through physical rather than verbal solutions.”

 

“Right… what about how other people treat them? Wouldn’t that affect how they turn out?”

 

She nodded, “Absolutely! When someone is raised being told that they will inevitably end up in jail and are given no resources to prevent that happening, they’re far more likely to give up trying to prove people wrong and simply let themselves fall into a life they see as inescapable. Some people are able to fight their way through it, of course, but it’s a long and difficult road.” Needless to say, she spoke from personal experience. 

 

The erasure hero stood still for several moments, to the extent that she had to check that he hadn’t fallen asleep. Akane was almost startled when he answered her,

  
“Right. I s’pose that makes sense. Thanks, I guess.”   
  
She grinned at him, pushing her glasses back onto her face.    
  
“It’s no problem! I love talking about this kind of thing; makes all the years at university worth it, ya know? Thanks again, Eraserhead, for helping out with Kal-”   
  
“Aizawa.”

 

Confusion was written across her face as she tilted her head slightly. “Hm?”   
  


“Call me Aizawa. Practically everyone else does.”

 

A light blush tinted her cheeks for a reason she wasn’t entirely sure of.    
  
“Alright then! Thank you, Aizawa, for taking care of my friend.”   
  
If she hadn’t known better, she would have said he was going slightly red himself as he answered, “It’s fine. Just tell her to lay off the coffee a bit. Maybe I can get some more sleep.”

  
She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t help the smile that fell across her face.   
  
“Will do, Aizawa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like we can all agree here, Kal is the best character in this goddamn fic and i am forever grateful to Bird for letting me add her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter should really be 'Everybody Is OOC and I Have No Idea How The Legal System Works'

_ You have (1) New Message! _

 

Stupid as it was, the exclamation mark at the end of the notification was the thing that was annoying Kuro as she dismissed the little flag at the top of her inbox. It was seven o’clock in the goddamn morning - who gave machines the right to be this fucking chipper so early in the day? Maybe she was just bitter; it had been a long night, and she really wasn’t feeling up to doing anything more than sitting at her desk and trying not to fall asleep again. 

 

It had been nearly two months since she began working at UA, and she was beginning to enjoy it far more than she was expecting to. She had been able to catch up with Kal, and despite not being a pro hero, the other faculty members had been more than welcoming. Not to mention, she utterly adored the students she saw - even the ones who didn’t visit her regularly were lovely kids (with a few exceptions). Even so, she doubted she would ever get used to needing to be up so early for the commute to work. Eventually, she was able to make her way to the subway station, fighting off the last remnants of sleep clinging to her like limpets. Falling asleep again would not be in her best interests at all, she knew from experience. A few weeks ago, she had nodded off on the train and ended up about seven stops further along the line than she was meant to be. Not a fun walk back. 

  
Standing on the platform, she pulled up the message that had woken her up. It was in her professional inbox, so the likelihood was that it was somebody asking about her schedule for new patients or cancelling an appointment. Tired eyes glanced down at the wall of text, which turned out to be from one of her colleagues, a judge of family law who would occasionally recommend patients to her. 

 

_ Kuramoto, _

 

_ I hear you are still open for taking on some more patients despite beginning work at U.A High. I am glad of it, as I have a case involving a child that I believe would greatly benefit from your work. Her name is Akiyama Chiyoh, and she turns six this month. I realise that this is slightly younger than most of your other clients, however I think that once you meet her you will understand why I am sending her to you. _

 

_ At the moment, her parents are in the middle of a rather messy divorce that has been going on for the past two years which I am overseeing. Her custody is one of the final issues being disputed, and ultimately the decision on who will gain primary guardianship is dependent on the recommendations of several social workers and psychologists. Given your excellent track record in these cases, I have put you forward as one of these professionals. If you choose to take her on as a client, I will put you in touch with her social worker, Fukuharo Hanuka, who is escorting her to appointments and court dates and she will forward you the full dossier on the Akiyama case and Chiyoh herself, which I believe you will find enlightening in the way of how your approach to her appointments should proceed.  _

 

_ On a personal note, I have found myself quite attached to this child, and believe that you will be the ideal choice for this case as I know you will act in her best interests rather than what her parents tell you. Please respond to this by Thursday the 16th at the latest. _

__   
_ Regards, _ _   
_ __ The Hon. Judge Fujimoro Fukodi

 

If Fujimoro was trying to pique her interest, he had certainly succeeded. Not only did the case itself sound fascinating, but Akane could never turn down the opportunity to help a kid who needed her help. She’d been called a bleeding heart before, and frankly, she couldn’t deny it; she wanted to help children - was that such a bad thing? On the remainder of the commute, she composed her response saying that, yes, she would be more than happy to assist in the case and asking what date would work for a first meeting.

 

With that out of the way, Kuro made her way through the security checkpoint at the front gate of the school having not much more on her mind other than the noodles she had packed for lunch. The soba she’d made last night were probably the best she’d ever done, and if she knew anything it was that they would be even better the next day.    
  
“ _ YOO!!! KURAMOTO!!!  _ ”

She cringed slightly at the unnatural volume of the humanised cockatiel heading in her direction also known as Present Mic, although she couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm.

  
“Mic! It’s good to see you! What’s going on?”

 

He reached her in a surprisingly short period of time, a characteristic grin plastered on his face.    
  
“NOT MUCH!! JUST WANTED TO SEE HOW YOU WERE SETTLING IN AT SCHOOL!!!”

 

A chuckle escaped her as she fell into step beside him, giving a small shrug.    
  
“I’m doing really well, actually! You’ve all been so welcoming, I’m very grateful.”

 

“ **_AWESOME!!_ ** HEY, A COUPLE OF US ARE GOING OUT TONIGHT - TGIF, YA KNOW? KAL SAID TO INVITE YOU!!!!”

 

A slight glaze went over Kuro’s eyes at his invitation, reminding her of the first (and last) time she’d ever gone drinking with Kageyama. As far as she could remember, the night had ended with her pulling a barefoot and mostly incoherent Kal out of a fountain about five kilometers from their destination. And that was _ before  _ someone decided to switch out the alcopops she’d been drinking with hard liquor. She hadn’t minded at the time, but  _ oh boy _ had she felt it the next morning.

 

“I’m.. I, um, I’m not so sure that’s a good-”   
  


“COME ON, IT’LL BE FUN!! BELIEVE ME, YOU HAVEN’T LIVED UNTIL YOU’VE SEEN NEMURI DO A DRUNKEN RENDITION OF ‘CALL ME MAYBE’ DURING KARAOKE!!!!!”

 

Okay, even she had to admit that that sounded fucking hilarious. A tiny smile crept onto her face - Mic’s excitement was infectious. 

 

“I guess I could come for a couple of hours. Do you guys have a designated driver?”   
  
“NAH, USUALLY WE GET A TAXI OR FORCE SHOUTA TO PICK US UP. LAST TIME IT HAPPENED HE SAID TO NEVER CALL HIM AFTER 9PM AGAIN, BUT I GOT A FEELING HE’LL MAKE AN EXCEPTION TONIGHT~!” 

 

There was a sly look to his smile that made her question what he meant by that, but she decided to let it slide. Admittedly, she hadn’t been out in a long, _ long _ time, and she was surely more responsible now than she was back then - maybe this would be fun?

“Well in that case, I’d be happy to come!”   
  
“ **_HELL YEAH!!!_ ** I’LL TEXT THE OTHERS AND LET ‘EM KNOW YOU’RE IN!!! SEE YOU TONIGHT!!”

 

“Mic, there’s still about eight work hours left.” Even so, she could feel the excitement bubbling in her chest. Spending some time away from work would be good for her.

 

Hopefully, there would be no fountains involved this time.


	13. Chapter 13

The mind-numbing blare of the music in the club was nearly enough to push Akane off of her feet as she made her way through the revolving door of the entrance. Of course Mic would choose a place with music that threatened to cause deafness. 

 

Still, the absence of wind on her uncovered skin was a nice change. She hadn’t been out clubbing since her early twenties, and had switched out her usual sweater-and-slacks ensemble for a thigh-length grey dress with sleeves that clung to her upper arms, leaving her collarbone and shoulders bare to the world. Her hair, usually left around her shoulders or in a low ponytail, had been put up in a so-called ‘messy bun’ that turned out to be less bun and more mess. Despite that, it was a good look. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that the night had ended up being far colder than she had expected. God, what she wouldn’t give for a pair of woolen socks right about now. 

 

The gooseflesh pebbling against her skin receded when the group made their way through the bar, the heat of dancing bodies and the smell of liquor warming her up rather quickly. Kal tugged her hand, leading her towards the bartender. They were quickly followed by Kayama and Hizashi, the other members of their ensemble. Apparently, an invitation had been extended to All-Might, but the top hero had declined, saying that he was too old for clubbing. 

 

“WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO DRINK?!” Mic asked, being the only one whose voice could be heard above the din of the music. Kuro’s eyes scanned the blackboard above the bar, weighing up the options. She had never been a particularly heavy drinker (or, as Kal termed it ‘a fucking light-weight’), so something with not much liquor in it seemed like a good idea.

  
“How about a Strawberry Sangria? That doesn’t seem too bad!”

 

Kal got a round of tequila shots (her usual since they were teenagers sneaking from the liquor cabinet), and Nemuri surprised exactly nobody by ordering a Sex On The Beach. Mic, surprisingly, only bought himself a beer but seemed happy enough to watch everyone else drink to their heart’s content. Settling themselves at a table, they watched the dancefloor undulate around them in an ever-pulsating wave, making passing conversation about the day and whatever happened to catch their interests, the others sometimes heading out into the throng while Kuro remained firmly seated. Dancing had never been quite her style. Around the third or fourth round of drinks, Hizashi turned to her, curiosity written on his face.   
  
“KURO! I’VE BEEN MEANING TO ASK - HOW DID YOU AND KAL EVEN BECOME FRIENDS?! I KNOW YOU GUYS WERE IN THE SAME CLASS AND STUFF, BUT YOU’RE SO DIFFERENT!! I MEAN, YOU’RE SWEET AND QUIET AND SHE’S… SHE’S-” He made a vague hand gesture. “SHE’S  _ KAL _ !!!”

 

A laugh rose in her throat at the way he posed the question, although she couldn’t fault his confusion - they were  _ very _ different people.   
  
“It’s not much of a story, I’m afraid!” She shouted over the music. “She was the only person in the class who wasn’t scared off by the whole, um… the whole ‘nightmare’ business. I guess we just kind of stuck together! She’s like, my best friend! I love her, like, so much...” she wasn’t sure exactly why, but she was having a little trouble keeping a coherent train of thought going; her brain seemed like it was covered in a fog. “‘Sides, aren’t you and Aizawa, like, friends? You’re total-- total opposites, too!” 

He chuckled a bit at that.    
  
“YEAH, YOU’RE RIGHT! I S’POSE OPPOSITES ATTRACT, HUH?!”

  
“Mm-hm! Hey, speaking of Eraserhead; are you-- are you sure he’ll be okay picking us up?? He always looks so tired, I don’t wanna make him lose any more sleep ‘cause, ‘cause of us. Maybe- maybe I should get him some tea to help him sleep? Oh, wait, I don’t actually know if he even drinks tea so that’s- that’s, like, really dumb!” she giggled. Wait, since when did she  _ giggle _ ?    
  
Amusement was clear in Mic’s expression as he listened to her babble for a moment, “NAH, SHOUTA WILL BE FINE. HE’LL GRUMBLE ABOUT IT BUT HE’LL STILL COME PICK YOU-  _ US _ UP.” He raised an eyebrow at her, “ARE YOU ALWAYS THIS WORRIED ABOUT EVERY INSOMNIAC YOU MEET?”

What did he mean by that? Kuro tilted her head, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“I’m worried about - I worry about everyone! I barely sleep anyway, so, the tea doesn’t really- doesn’t do much good!” 

“RIGHT, SURE~” 

There was an incredulous tone in his voice that confused her even more. Present Mic was being really mysterious tonight. She was going to ask him what he meant when she felt a hand on her shoulder, tugging her upwards. Kal was shimmying in place as she urged Kuro towards her. 

  
“C’mon and dance! You’re not spending the whole night sitting around at the bar! I won’t allow it!”   
  
A laugh bubbled up from her throat as she allowed herself to be dragged into the crowd, music assaulting her ears even more now that she was closer to the source of it. Kal looked great, albeit a little sweaty in a dark blue halter-neck top with black skinny jeans, bopping along to the music. She wasn’t a huge partier, but even she had to admit that this was kind of  _ fun _ . Admittedly inebriated, Kuro allowed her friend who had now been joined by Midnight, to lead her along through the mass of bodies, grinning and trying not to stumble. Her glasses had somehow managed to remain stuck to her face, although there was a slight fog building up on the lenses.    
  
“So, what were you talking to Yamada about?” Nemuri asked, slinging an arm around her shoulder. Shaking her head in amusement, Kuro answered,

  
“Not a-- not a lot! I was just saying that, um, I felt bad about making Aizawa-san come all this way to pick us up because he doesn’t look like he gets nearly enough sleep - OH! And I was thinking that- that I should get him some tea. To-- to help him get some sleep and stuff.”

  
Behind her, the R-Rated hero exchanged a smirk with Kal, who winked in return. Why was everyone acting so weird whenever she brought Aizawa up?? She was only being considerate! It was mean of them to expect him to drag himself over and get the rest of them home, even if she did kind of want to see him again. And talk to him. And-- wait, what?   
  
They danced (or just, moved in a circle with their hands raised slightly. Did that even count as dancing?) for a while, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It was strange, but at that moment, Kuro felt the overwhelming urge to tell Kal just how much she loved her and how grateful she was that they were friends.   
  
“Hey..! Hey, Kal-chan!! You-- You’re really great, y’know that?? Like, really  _ really _ great. You’re my best friend… I love you, so-- so, so much. You’re- You’re the best fucking person in this fucking place… I like, I owe you my life… I would kill for you...” Yeah, that seemed eloquent enough. But instead of the heartfelt response she was expecting, her friend dissolved into a wave of body-shaking laughter, sending an indignant shade of red over her face.   
  
“Hey…! That’s so mean!! I’m being like, really nice…! I’m telling you how I feel! Why are you laughing at me…?”   
  
Kal wiped away an imaginary tear as she stood up straight again, placing her hand on Kuro’s shoulder reassuringly.   
  
“Yeah, I know buddy. I love you too. But I think we should be getting you home, yeah? I’ll let Hizashi know.”

She pouted, crossing her arms with a sigh.

  
  
“ _ Fine.  _ But I call shotgun!”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOO TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY!!! I didn't wanna drag this whole party thing out for too long, so I decided to post them both in one day. Next chapter will be back to the main plot line, I promise!

 

_ Yamada, I fucking hate you. _

 

Shouta couldn’t help feeling justified in his rage (or as close to rage as he could get in his sleep-deprived state) towards his friend as he pushed the door to the bar open, wincing at the music pumping through the surround-sound speakers. It was an old song, but one he recognised from somewhere he couldn’t quite place.

 

_ ‘Darling you got to let me know - _

_ Should I stay or should I go?’ _

 

The baseline thudded in his ears as he looked around for the blonde-haired menace who had called him there. Instead, his eyes landed on a familiar figure dancing in the crowd, blonde hair bouncing as she moved her hips in a way that was almost hypnotic.    
  


_ ‘If you say that you are mine, _

_ I'll be here 'til the end of time. _

_ So you got to let me know -  _

_ Should I stay or should I go?’ _

 

He had known that Akane was with them, of course; Hizashi had dangled the information in front of him as an attempt to make him come along. What he hadn’t been expecting was for her to look like  _ that.  _ Eyes closed as the music washed over her, she was in a grey dress that left her shoulders uncovered and wrapped around her body in a way that shouldn’t have been nearly as attention-grabbing as it was. Dimly, he realised he had never seen this much of her bare skin before - she almost always wore sweaters that covered most of her torso in a loose fit. Not that he hadn’t wondered (even if he’d never admitted it, even to himself) what she would have looked like in something more form-fitting, but this had caught him completely off guard. 

 

_ ‘It's always tease, tease, tease; _

_ You're happy when I'm on my knees. _

_ One day it's fine and next it's black, _

_ So if you want me off your back; _

_ Well, come on and let me know -  _

_ Should I stay or should I go?’ _

 

She was laughing now, eyes sparkling under the unnatural lights of the room. The lyrics to the song were worming their way into his consciousness - on one hand, they seemed fairly innocent, but on another level he couldn’t help feeling that something in the wording was far less innocuous than it appeared to be.  

 

_ ‘Should I stay or should I go now? _

_ Should I stay or should I go now? _

_ If I go, there will be trouble _

_ And if I stay it will be double _

_ So come on and let me know - ’ _

 

Aizawa hadn’t even realised he was making his way towards her through the crowds of people dancing until he was right behind her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she spun around in shock, before breaking out into a grin that was brighter than anything he’d ever seen, making his heart feel like it had skipped a beat. 

 

Hm. He should probably see a doctor about that.

 

“Aizawa! You-- You came! I was really worried we were gonna wake you up with- with the text and stuff, but you’re here so- so that makes it-  _ hic _ okay!” She paused, seemingly surprised by her own hiccup and looking for it’s source. He could see now why Hizashi had called him; she was clearly drunk.    
  


“Yeah, Yeah. It’s fine. Where’s Yamada? And Nemuri and Kal? I’m taking you guys home.”    
  
Kuramoto’s face fell, a pout forming along the soft pink line of her mouth.    
  
“Already? I wanted a blowjob first!”   
  


A fucking  _ what _ ?! 

 

He nearly choked on the air in his throat. She seemed to sense his shock, or maybe he’d said that out loud without realising.   
  
“A blowjob! It’s got whipped cream and Bailey’s and you’re meant to drink it with- without any hands! I saw some- some girls doing it at the bar and it looked like  _ fun _ !”

  
The hammering in his chest abated slightly at her explanation, although he doubted he’d get over his surprise any time soon. A cocktail. It was just a cocktail. No need to get worked up over that.

  
“Yeah, I… I don’t think that’s a good idea, you seem like you’ve had enough already,” he reasoned, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep a semblance of composure on his face, “grab your friend and I’ll get the others and then we can go.”

 

The drive was uneventful, insomuch as nobody ended up throwing up in his car (unlike last time) and the drunken singing was kept to a minimum. Nemuri’s apartment was the closest to the club, then Kal’s, and then Hizashi. When the radio hero clambered out from the vehicle, he shot Shouta a suggestive grin that he unfortunately knew all too well.    
  
“DON’T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN’T DO, BUDDY~” he said, glancing between Aizawa and Kuro, who was currently fiddling with a strand of her hair like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Shouta shot him a glare that would have sent anyone less used to it running with their tail between their legs.   
  
“Considering you have absolutely no standards, Hizashi, I doubt that will be a problem.”

 

His so-called ‘friend’ only chuckled, making his way back towards the building. Despite his annoyance, Shouta made sure to stay until he was safely inside - Present Mic could take care of himself, of course, but the Erasure hero still wanted to make sure that nothing, no matter how unlikely it was, would happen in between the walk from the car to his apartment. 

 

The silence of the car was interrupted by the slightly slurred voice of the woman beside him.

  
“You know… you always try to act like you don’t care about- about Mic, but you’re actually a really… really good friend.”    
  
He raised an eyebrow, glancing towards the wide doe-eyes gazing back at him.    
  


“Yeah? Why d’you think that?” he asked, hiding an amused smirk.   
  


“Well… you’re mean to him sometimes.. Most of the time. But you- you listen to him even when he’s annoying you… You’re like- like total opposites, but it… it works, y’know? Like, um… like opposite things that work well together… I dunno. People used to- used to say that about me and Kal! I love Kal… she’s the best… high school- high school would have been the worst if I didn’t have her…” 

 

She rambled on like that for most of the drive, jumping to and from various subjects without warning. The talk was kind of like background noise to him - soothing, in a way. It was through that that he learned she loved chocolate, but only if it was made from at least 70% cocoa, and that she still had a bunch of her father’s old vinyls at home despite not having a record player. That she loved vintage movies, but couldn’t stand it when people tried to recolourise them. That her first ever toy was a stuffed panda that she named Koro, and that she still kept it next to her on her pillow. That she learned to bake with her grandmother, and would sometimes leave cookies at her gravesite for the animals at the cemetery. Little things that meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason he could feel himself putting in an effort to remember them. 

 

They were important to her, and for whatever reason, that meant they were important to him.

 

Following her directions, he was finally able to find her apartment block, nestled in amongst the taller buildings of the city.    
  
“Thank… Thank you for dropping me off, Aizawa-san.” She murmured, making her way out of the car on shaky legs.    
  
“It’s fine. But try not to stay out so late next time, alright? I don’t want to have to drag myself out of bed to come and pick you up from a bar this late at night again.”

A giggle fell from her lips as she nodded in agreement.  
  
“I’ll- I’ll try not to… Thank you again, though. Nobody- Nobody is usually this… this nice to me. You’re nice, Aizawa-san. Even if  you try to- try to pretend that you’re not…”

He silently thanked the darkness for hiding the flush climbing up his face.

  
“Yeah, well… you should get to bed. It’s late.”

  
He stayed longer than he meant to, watching the entrance to the apartment complex with an almost vacant expression. The building was near his patrol area, he realised; maybe next time he would drop by to check she was alright. Out of concern for a coworker, that is.    
  
Yeah, that was it. Concern for a coworker.


	15. Chapter 15

 

It was a miracle she didn’t still have a headache. The first time in years that Akane had gone out drinking, and of course she ended up getting shitfaced and forgetting to drink water. It seemed she really had earned the title of lightweight, much to her chagrin. Thankfully, Kal was able to assure her that Drunk Kuro hadn’t done anything that would end up biting her in the ass. Actually, from what she’d been told, her drunk persona was just really,  _ really _ affectionate. Better than the alternative, she supposed. A full day of drinking as much water as possible and sleeping the headache away seemed to put her back to her usual self. 

 

Sitting at the desk in her home-office, she glanced at the clock set on the wall. It was 10:30 on Sunday morning, and she was waiting for the knock at the door that would signal the arrival of Akiyama Chiyoh and her social worker. The decision to accept the case had been an easy one, but cleaning up her apartment to make it suitable for seeing clients was a whole different ball game. Before her new job, she would have been at the office she’d rented, but given that she was spending most of her time at U.A nowadays, she didn’t see the point in keeping it. Still, she had to admit that the soft mint of the wallpaperm, comfy chairs and other creature comforts that she’d moved from the living room worked almost as well as her old suite. 

 

A sharp rapping sound against the thin wood of the front door sent her shooting out of her seat to the entrance of the flat, pasting a smile that she hoped would soon become genuine onto her face. The door opened to reveal a woman in a dark navy pantsuit with the most piercing green eyes Akane had ever seen behind a pair of rectangular spectacles, her chocolate-brown hair scraped up into a bun.  Travelling downwards, her gaze landed on Chiyoh, who was holding the woman’s hand tightly. Big, dew-drop eyes stared up at her, her other hand playing with the straps of her tiny red overalls, matched with the bobbles on her black pigtails trailing down her back. 

 

_ What an adorable kid. _

 

“Hello! You must be Chiyoh!” she smiled warmly, crouching down to extend her hand to the child, who instead of taking it, hid behind the other woman. Emerald eyes shot her a sympathetic glance.    
  
“Don’t take it personally. She’s very shy. I’m--”   
  
“Fukuharo Hanuka, the social worker! Judge Fujimoro mentioned you to me in his email!” Kuro straightened, giving her handshake to the other adult instead, ushering them into the apartment. “Come on in! I’ve made tea if you would like it, or I can get some coffee, too?”

 

Once the three of them were comfortably settled in the spare bedroom-cum-office, Akane placed her focus on the six-year-old who was hugging her knees on the plush beanbag laid out across the ground for younger patients. 

 

“Chiyoh, my name is Kuramoto Akane. You can call me Kuro, if you would like?”

 

The child nodded silently, and she continued. “I’m a psychologist - do you know what that is?” this time, she was given a shake of the head, sending the long black braids down her back flying slightly.

 

“Well, I’m here to help you with your feelings. They can be scary and hard to deal with sometimes, so you can tell me about them and I’ll help you name them and know what to do with them. Does that sound good?” 

  
Another nod. Kuro stifled a sad sigh - these first meetings were always awkward, especially with children who were as quiet as this one. It was clear that Chiyoh had been through a lot, and it broke her heart to see a kid so isolated at such a young age. The first step was getting them to use their words.   
  
“Well, then let’s start simple. How do you feel right now?”

 

“…” there was quiet for a moment, before the child responded in a quiet, near whispered voice, “scared.” 

 

“Oh? Do you know why?”

 

She shook her head again. 

  
  
“Do you want me to help you not feel scared?”

 

Nod.   
  


Kuro mentally went over the different strategies she had for helping kids vocalise how they felt and facing those emotions. Her mind landed on one that seemed to work.    
  
“Do you like drawing, Chiyoh?”   
  


Dark eyes lit up and the child nodded vigorously.  _ Bingo.  _ Akane smiled to herself as she reached into her drawer, pulling out various coloured pencils, crayons, textas and papers, placing them on the table in front of her. Immediately, Chiyoh picked up an orange crayon, the ghost of a smile on her face. Kuro followed suit, choosing a red marker and kneeling down beside her.

 

“So, whaddaya wanna draw?”

 

“A dragon!”

 

A grin tugged at her mouth. “Alright! Let’s draw a dragon.”

 

About twenty minutes were spent crouched down by the child-size table, the drawings beginning to reflect more of Chiyoh’s personality as Akane made suggestions to her, subtle enough that they allowed for free choice but highlighting aspects of her psyche in what was drawn (‘let’s draw something funny! Let’s draw something sad!’). 

 

“Hey Chiyoh! Do you wanna draw something scary?” 

 

Her brows furrowed, and for a moment Kuro thought she had overstepped, until she picked up a brown crayon with a determination that seemed disproportionate to the task at hand. Slowly and deliberately, the child began to colour in the blank sheet of paper with the colour, pressing down hard. The shapeless scribble began to get larger and larger, until it was filling up the entire page. Even then, she didn’t stop. She seemed nearly hypnotised by the movement, the brown beginning to cover up the other drawings on other pages, layered thickly until the original was indecipherable underneath the wax colour. 

 

“Chiyoh?”

 

She didn’t respond, her attention consumed by what she was doing. It was only when Akane moved to take away the crayon that she saw the dark, mould-like substance being emitted from her hands, creeping across the paper and the table in alarmingly fast tendrils. As the rot travelled across the table, things began to deteriorate at its touch, disintegrating like dust beneath it. It was beginning to eat through the plastic of the table, and Akane pulled away in shock, looking up to Fukuharo for guidance. Immediately, the social worker moved to the child’s side, calling her name gently, 

 

“Chiyoh. Chiyoh. It’s time to stop doing that now.” She tugged gently at the child’s arm, and Kuro noticed that she wore a pair of gloves which weren’t being affected by the child’s quirk. All at once, the mould disappeared, leaving the eaten away remains of the paper and table clean but destroyed. For her part, the child hadn’t moved, instead she was staring at the destruction she had caused with a blank expression, tears flowing freely. 

 

“Her quirk is called ‘rot’,” Fukuharo explained, pulling the gloves off now that the crisis had been averted. “It sends out a destructive biomass that eats away at any organic matter that it encounters, including things made out of plant or animal products. She can’t control it yet.”

 

It was like being hit with a freight train of recollection; the stagnant tears, the loss of control. Akane found herself shaking slightly, which the social worker took to be out of fear.    
  
“It’s alright - generally, she can turn it off if she tries hard enough. You shouldn’t be in any danger.” she said, placing a comforting hand on Kuro’s upper arm.   


  
“Oh, no. That’s not it…” she murmured, staring at the catatonic toddler. 

“That’s not it at all…”


	16. Chapter 16

It kept happening. Over the past two months, the frequency with which Shouta encountered children doing the work of villains had only increased. The youngest he had seen looked to be around ten or eleven, in the company of a seventeen year old - that was a hard night.

 

None of them were as chatty as the one at the initial arrest, and most refused to cooperate with the police, leaving the detectives (and himself) at a dead end. Needless to say, he was getting frustrated. Usually, when there was some kind of crime syndicate he was having problems with, he was able distance himself enough from the job to work methodically and dispassionately. He still worked methodically, but it was getting harder and harder to remain emotionally removed from the situation. These were  _ kids _ , he kept reminding himself; some of them were even younger than the ones he taught during the day, and he had a hard enough time remembering that  _ they _ were older than they looked. 

 

He knew the kids were connected with each other - the ones that did speak spouted similar rhetoric to the first, preaching that it was society that had done this to them. And he was starting to believe that they had a point - what Kuramoto had said about children being a product of their environment had stuck with him; he had never really payed attention to it before, but the way that the police treated the ones he had arrested was callous bordering on brutal. With other captures, he probably wouldn’t have cared; they were adults who knew the consequences of their actions. But these were children, still developing and learning, and yet they were treated exactly the same as the hardened criminals he brought in most other nights. Something about it didn’t sit right with him.

 

He would never have admitted it, but the whole thing was starting to get to him, taking what little sleep he got in the first place and reducing it further. His class probably noticed; the little tolerance he had for their antics had become even lower, and expulsion was a daily threat on his part. It wasn’t as if he was doing it intentionally, but with his mind otherwise occupied it was all too easy to snap at the rambunctious fifteen year-olds.

 

Monday mornings were painful on a regular day, but with the shit he’d been dealing with recently it was equivalent to torture. Thankfully he was usually one of the first ones there, and could catch up on the sleep he missed otherwise. Other teachers knew better than to disturb him, and apart from the instance where Kuramoto had woken him up on her first day, he was able to use the few short hours before school to ensure that he wasn’t totally out of it for the rest of the day. Walking down the hall, he realised with a jolt of confusion that the light in her office was already on. Had she forgotten to turn it off over the weekend? Curiously, he opened the door slightly to look inside and turn the thing off, only to find instead of the empty room he had been expecting, Kuramoto Akane slumped at her desk headfirst in a pile of papers, face slightly obscured by a tangle of messy blonde hair. A light snore was emanating from her body, rising and falling in steady motions. The peaceful expression on her face was disarming - she was usually so animated, seeing her looking so calm was both surprising and strangely endearing.   
  
“Kuramoto?”

 

Her sleep must have been a light one, because with a jolt she shot from her seat and backed against the wall, eyes darting wildly. Jesus, that was a lot of eyes. He’d seen her quirk in action once before when he first caught sight of her in the cafeteria riot, but he was still unprepared for just how eldritch it was in appearance; red and black orbs swivelling about in unnatural areas, panic clear in every single one. She must have realised what was happening and that she wasn’t in danger, because after about thirty seconds of shadows moving across the walls of their own accord, the eyes closed again and she was back to her normal self, albeit blushing profusely.   
  
“Aizawa! I’m so sorry! You startled me and I didn’t realise who you were at first!” 

 

“You don’t have to keep apologising, you know. I should be the one saying sorry for scaring you.” Seeing her clearly now, the dark circles under her eyes were even more pronounced than usual - she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and he suddenly felt rather guilty for waking her.    
  
“Are you alright? You look exhausted.”

 

She blinked. “What? Oh! Yes! I’m fine! I’ve just been working a bit too hard is all - I’ve taken a case outside the school and it’s quite time consuming,” she paused, looking at him with furrowed brows. “What about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

Concern laced her voice, her head tilting in the way he had noticed it did when she was trying to figure something out. “You look tired, too -- more tired than usual, I mean. Not that you always look tired! It’s just, kind of worrying.”

 

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I guess I’ve been working too hard as well. Not sleeping as much.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help? Like, grade papers or something while you catch some rest?” She offered so sincerely it shocked him - hadn’t she just been saying that she’d been overworked? Why on earth would she add any more to that load? Least of all for him?

 

The rejection came so fast he was worried it would be read wrong. “No!” Shit, that sounded like he was rejecting  _ her _ , not her help. “No. It’s fine. I can do it myself. It’s only meant to be marked by the homeroom teacher.” 

 

“Oh… Well, let me know if there is anything you want from me!” Her smile, in combination with the ambiguity of the offer sent his mind to a place it should _ not _ have been going. 

 

Nope. No. Not going there. Not today. Not this early in the morning. It wasn’t a particularly explicit image that had appeared in his head, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. It probably didn’t even mean anything, but even so, they were not the thoughts he should have been having about a coworker. 

 

“Sure. I’ll do that. I should, um, get going. I‘ve… got some stuff to do before class.”  
  
  
Akane nodded, sending strands of mussed blonde hair flying. Slowly, he made his way from the office, pausing at the sound of footsteps behind him.  
  
  
“I nearly forgot! Thank you for dropping me off the other night. It was really nice of you to come out and get us, even when you said you wouldn’t do it again.”

  
“It’s fine. Didn’t want you to get in trouble on the way home or anything.” He turned back around, continuing the walk down the hallway.   


  
“Oh! And Aizawa?”  
  


“Mm?”

  
“Try to get some sleep. It’s worrying me.”

 

She was worried about him? He grunted slightly, not stopping to turn back. It probably didn’t mean anything - she worried about everyone, she had said it herself that night. 

 

Even so, he thought back to her offer of help. She was a child psychologist, right? Maybe if he told her what had been happening, she could give some insight on what was behind it. But would it be a good idea to bring her into it? Whatever it was, it was big and potentially very dangerous, and for some reason the thought of something happening to her had knots twisting in his stomach.  _ She’s a civilian _ , he reminded himself,  _ of course you’re worried about a civilian getting hurt, even if she was trained as a hero. _

 

He would need to think very carefully about this.   
  



	17. Chapter 17

 

“This is bullshit!” Bakugou gave her a look that could only be described as utter loathing. “I don’t need any of this dumb ‘psychology’ shit - I’m _ fine _ !”

 

“Hm.” Kuro met his glare head on with a calm stare, not backing down from the explosive teenager’s temper tantrum. Bakugou Katsuki was proving to be the most difficult patient she’d dealt with in a long, long time. It probably didn’t help that he wasn’t here of his own free will, and was instead forced to attend as part of a disciplinary action. She wasn’t familiar with the specifics of the incident, but what was clear was that this kid had a mean streak a mile long and a competitive nature to match it. Still, it wasn’t her first time in the ring with a child who was totally unwilling to cooperate, and she had her strategies. Plan A was to appeal to the logical aspect of the thing.

 

“That may well be the case, but you’re here regardless. Why not make the best of it? You might not ‘need’ my advice, but nobody was ever hurt by a bit of extra counselling.” Her voice was measured and conversational, offering the boy a small smile to which he responded by scowling even deeper and crossing his arms over his chest.    
  
“Whatever. I don’t need to listen to you - you’re not even a hero!” He sneered.

 

Alright, so much for Plan A. 

  
“No, I’m not. But I  _ am _ friends with Kageyama Kalri, and I don’t think she’d be very happy to hear the stuff you’re saying right now.” It wasn’t exactly a threat - she would never do that outright. Still, she couldn’t help the twinge of satisfaction she got at the glimmer of- well, not really  _ fear _ , but apprehension that crossed his face. The kid was good at hiding it quickly, though, scoffing,

 

“Tch. Like I care what that old lady thinks. I’m not fucking scared of her!”

 

Teenagers like this were equal parts frustrating and amusing; so much anger and fire threatening to burst from one body, and yet their voices were still cracking when they tried to yell. Kuro might have laughed, if she didn’t think that doing so would lead to her office (and herself) being engulfed in an explosion that she really didn’t feel like cleaning up after. 

 

“Fine, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to; this is about you, and we’ve got time. But you might as well tell me what happened to land you here - I swear, they leave the incident reports vague just to annoy me.” A wry smile twisted at her lips. When logic failed, humour was another option.

 

In another stereotypically teenage move, Bakugou just rolled his eyes at her. Just  _ looking _ at him gave her flashbacks to her high school cohort; the epitome of teenage arrogance. But she couldn’t be too hard on him - his brain was still developing and figuring out how to work with others in adult environments. That, in combination with all the pressure and prestige of the Hero Course made for a personality that was in equal parts concerning and hysterical. 

 

“It wasn’t even that big of a deal - everyone was just fuckin’ overreacting.”   
  
Akane pursed her lips, physically restraining herself from rolling her own eyes.    
  
“That’s probably true, but it doesn’t answer my question. What happened?”

 

“Ugh, it was just training. Apparently I was going ‘too hard’ on Uraraka - I was fuckin’ holding back on her! Aizawa sent me to go see Nezu and he sent me to you. Fucking bastard.” 

 

The mention of Eraserhead gave her pause, remembering the rather awkward exchange that morning. Her nerves were always on edge, but if there was one thing that made her go into full fight-or-flight mode, it was being woken up suddenly. She already got so little rest, her brain immediately expected a threat if snatched from whatever recharging time it could get. But he hadn’t seemed scared by the sudden appearance of her quirk - although she frankly wasn’t sure he was afraid of anything - more surprised, really.    
  
“Oh? Does he not normally do that?”   
  
“No! Usually he just glares at me or leaves me the fuck alone; he’s been even more pissed off than usual lately - he needs to get laid or somethin’, maybe then he’ll get off our asses.”

 

Fucking hell, that came out of the blue. Blood was steadily rising to her cheeks, painting them them scarlet. 

 

“Bakugou, I-I don’t think it’s appropriate to be speaking to another staff member about things like that - maybe just keep that for your friends, yeah?”   
  
“Why? it’s fucking true! Unless--” he paused for a moment, eyes narrowing as he stared at her reddened face. Suddenly he was smirking, and Akane knew what was coming next. Before he even had the chance to open his mouth, she interrupted his train of thought with a tone she hoped was authoritative rather than anxious.

  
“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there. There’s a thing in psychology  _ and _ teaching called ‘breach of protocol’, which discussing anything like what I’m pretty sure you’re about to say most  _ definitely _ is. I’m not even gonna address what you’re implying, but I can tell you with confidence that whatever you’re thinking is  _ wrong.  _ Are we clear?”

 

The shit-eating grin on his face told her that she’d done nothing but make the whole thing worse. Oh god, maybe she should have just laughed it off? Acted as if it was a joke? Shit, shit, shit! 

 

“Yeah, sure. Crystal clear.”

 

“Good. Because I don’t want to hear anything like that from you ever again. I know it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but-”

 

Her tirade was cut off by a pounding on the door, and the familiar voice of Kal calling out,

  
“Hey, Kuro! I gotta take the little shit to his next lesson; you done with him?”

 

“Just a second! I’m just finishing up!” she turned to Bakugou, “You had better get going. Apparently, you’ll be in here once a week from now until the end of the semester - complain all you want, but please for the love of god, just show up so I can keep my job?” That might have been an exaggeration, but at this point she was too exhausted to care.    
  
Rising from his seat, the blonde teenager walked towards the door, the cocky smirk still plastered on his face. 

 

“Yeah, sure. See ya later, Doc.”

 

Moments later the door was closed and the footsteps out of earshot, and Akane wasted no time in sinking her head into her hands, letting out a sound halfway between a sigh and a scream.

 

What the fuck had she just gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bakugo, breaking down the door to 1-A's classroom: GUYS HOLY FUCK


	18. Chapter 18

_ Tick, tick, tick… _

 

The incessant rhythm of the clock by her desk was the only indicator of time passing in the artificial light of the tiny world that Akane’s office had become. She’d lost track of the time a few hours ago; it was less depressing that way. Styrofoam containers of takeout were cold and nearly untouched beside her, despite the near ravenous hunger she had been feeling earlier that day. 

 

It always seemed to go like this - she would begin the night with the best of intentions, telling herself she would only stay up a few more hours to review some notes and then she’d catch up on as much rest as she could get, and before she could realise what was happening it was 4am and any hope of sleep was well and truly gone. 

  
In fact, she’d been sleeping less and less these days - her life already revolved around her work, it was true, but she had still managed to maintain some outside interests (even if those interests did mainly consist of Netflix and old movies). But in the few weeks since she’d first met Chiyoh, the mould-spawning six year old had become one of the only things she could think about when not working at the school. They had two sessions together a week - one on Saturday and another on Wednesday when she got off work a few hours early. Since their initial meeting and the subsequent melt-down, the kid had begun to open up to Akane in a way that warmed her heart, even going so far as to start addressing her as ‘Kuro-Chan’.

 

In fact, it was Chiyoh’s case that was the cause of her sleeplessness that night, as it had been on several similar occasions. It was Wednesday - or it had been, a few hours ago when Kuro had begun working, and that afternoon she had suggested going to the park to watch Chiyoh play.

 

_ “It’s observational psychology,” she explained to Fukuharu, who was looking at her quizzically. “In a controlled environment like my office, surrounded by adults, she’s going to act different than she would in the playground with kids her age. By doing this, I can gauge for myself how she interacts with others and figure out where to go from there. Does that make sense?” _

 

_ The emerald-eyed woman nodded, seemingly placated by her explanation.  _

_ “That does make sense. I can tell you now, though, she’s rather reclusive around other children - I wouldn’t expect too much.” _

 

_ “I’m not ‘expecting’ anything,” she said with a shrug, “that’s what this is about; learning from what I see how best to help her do better!”  _

 

_ Fifteen minutes later, the two adults were sitting on a park bench while Chiyoh climbed up the steps to a yellow plastic slide. There was silence for a while, until the social worker spoke up, _

 

_ “It’s nice seeing her do this - she rarely gets the chance to be a normal kid like that. She doesn’t have many friends at school, and with the court case going on, neither of her parents have a whole lot of time for her.” _

 

_ Sadness filled Akane’s whole being, as it always did whenever Chiyoh’s family situation was brought up. The girl had so many problems at such a young age, and Kuro could relate to many of them all too well.  _ __   
_   
_ __ “I can only imagine how difficult it is. How long have you been on her case?”

 

_ “About six months. The divorce started last year, but the custody battle started getting ugly; one parent telling lies about the other, bribing her to say things in court, the whole shebang. The judge got tired of it, so they assigned me to look after her and make sure Mom and Dad are playing nice.” There was an undeniable affection in her voice that sent a wave of relief through Kuro’s body. With everything going on in that child’s life, it was a comfort to know that there was at least one other person who genuinely cared for her wellbeing.  _ __   
__   
_ Instead of her usual clipboard, she was taking notes in her old leather-bound notebook, a far more inconspicuous and less cumbersome alternative - reading over what she’d written about her observations and Fukuharu’s own testimony, she realised she was missing something.  _ __   
__   
_ “And her quirk? How’s that affected how she interacts with other kids?” _ __   
__   
_ Narrow shoulders slumped at the inquiry, giving her an idea of what the answer would be. _ __   
_   
_ __ “Not positively. All the emotional turmoil she’s been going through means that managing her quirk is even harder than it was already. There was one incident in particular… she put a child in hospital with severe necrosis along their arms and face after they pushed her over during a game of chase. Since then, she’s been isolated from the other children - they’ve started calling her a ‘villain’. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard that’s been on her psyche.” 

 

_ Akane’s knuckles were gripped tight around her pen, trying to ground herself. It was as if the past was repeating itself in front of her eyes. _

 

_ “Yes, I… I know how hard it is to fit in with other children when you have an.. unconventional quirk.” _ __   
  


_ The bright green eyes of the other woman fixed on her with interest, and for a moment she was worried that a question about her own quirk was coming. But it never did. Instead, she simply stared for a moment before turning back to keep an eye on Chiyoh.  _

 

_ “It’s difficult, isn’t it? To see children so ostracised by their own peers for something out of their control. They’re perfectly normal in every other way; just as innocent and curious about the world as any other kid their age - but for some reason, they’re cast out. Society passes it’s judgement on them at such a young age, it’s heartbreaking.” _ __   
__   
_ Her own dark brown eyes rose to meet the intense verdant gaze of Fukuharu, a spark of understanding passing between them.  _ __   
_   
_ __ “Yeah, I think I know exactly how you feel.”

 

It felt as though lead weights were pulling at her eyelids, making her battle to keep them open. Akane was just about to give up and go to bed, when the disproportionately loud ringing of her cellphone cut through the thickened silence. Who on earth would call her this late? Was something wrong with one of her parents? Her hand shot across the desk towards the phone so fast that it sent a smear of red sauce over the open file in front of her as she clicked ‘accept call’.

 

There was silence for a moment, although she could hear someone breathing on the other line.

  
“Kuramoto…?” the voice on the other end was slightly raspy, as if just out of breath. She knew that voice, but...   


  
“... Aizawa? How did you get my number?”

 

Her ears picked up a small sigh of relief from the hero on the other end.    


  
“School registry. I need your help with something… It’s important. Can we meet somewhere?”

 

Her eyes widened in surprise, although he couldn’t see it.

 

“Like, right now?”

 

“Yes. I can text you the directions.”

 

“Um… alright? Are you alright?”

 

_ Silence. _

 

“ … yes. I’m fine. Just try to hurry up, okay?” 

 

The line went dead. 

 

In an instant, she was racing around her house looking for her coat and shoes, leaving no time to ponder the strangeness of the call or how abruptly it ended. He wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t a big deal, and she was determined to help in any way she could. She was worried, obviously, but there was a tiny, annoying part of her that was secretly thrilled at the turn of events - he wanted  _ her _ help, he had called  _ her _ in the middle of the night. _He_ wanted to meet up with _her._

 

A tiny bubble of excitement was pushing at her chest, and she pointedly ignored it, locking the door behind her as she did so. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo boy this is my longest chapter yet and by far one of my favourites to write - but fair warning, there's a mention of child death and suicide in this one, so if thats not your cup of tea then maybe close this window right now.

“Hang on, let me just… let me just repeat everything you said- I, I need a moment to process this.” 

 

Bitter coffee burned her throat on the way down, forcing her to swallow faster than she would have liked. The action was automatic, and she didn’t even glance down at her empty cup, instead staring at Aizawa, who was sitting across from her at the rickety table of the all-night diner he had given her directions to, nursing his own cup of tea. When he had told her he was fine, he hadn’t been telling the whole truth; there was a cut running under his jaw, the dried blood rust-brown against the stubbled line of his chin. He didn’t seem in any pain, but Akane winced whenever her eyes fell to it, needless worry whispering in her ear. She gave an anxious sigh, but began nonetheless.    
  
“So, you’ve- you’ve started noticing that the people you’re arresting on patrol are getting younger - like, early teens young, doing things that seem like only seasoned criminals would do. And they’ve been saying some weird stuff about society being at fault for what they’re doing, like they’ve been indoctrinated or something?” 

 

She sent him a questioning look, wordlessly asking if she was correct. Aizawa nodded at her, gesturing for her to continue.   
  
“And you want _ my _ help to figure out why it’s happening and how to stop it?”

 

He made a noise of agreement, taking another drink.    
  
“That’s basically it, yeah.”

 

Okay, so she’d heard everything correctly. That confirmation did nothing to stem the tidal wave of questions swimming through her head.

  
“Alright, I think I’m all caught up,” she paused. “But why? Why me? I’m not a hero, and surely the police have far more resources and jurisdiction than I could give you. Why not use them?” There was a moment of silence between them as he weighed his answer carefully, the only sound the distant chatter of the street outside and the low hum of the television behind them. Finally, he responded.   
  
“You’re right, normally I would work with the city detectives to solve this. But I’ve noticed something about how they handle the kids I bring in - they treat them as if they’re hardened crooks; pushing them around and jeering at them,” his jaw clenched as he continued, “Sure, they broke the law and I was doing my job by arresting them but… but they’re still kids.”  Anger and something akin to regret flashed behind tired eyes as he looked at her again,   
“I don’t think I can cooperate with the police on this if they’re going to behave like that. And if I can’t cooperate with them, then it’ll make getting to the bottom of this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

  
“As for you,” She cocked a brow, her interest piqued. “I’ll be honest, I’ve been thinking about asking for a couple of months now - you know how a teenager’s brain works; it’ll be easier to understand and deal with them if I know how they think - what’s making them do it, why they’re doing it. I decided against it because in doing so I’d be putting a civilian at risk, which I try to avoid if I can.” 

 

All his reasoning made sense; she did have skills that he could use in his work, and it was understandable - admirable, even, that he would hesitate to put a non-hero in harm’s way even if it would benefit him. So, then…

 

“What changed your mind?”

 

Her question sent his back rigid and his jaw clenched, calloused hands tightening around the now empty mug. Had she done something wrong? Dread gripped her heart with an intensity that didn’t quite merit the situation.   
  
“You-- you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to! I get it-”   
  
“No. I can tell you, it’s fine…” if she didn’t know better, he’d say he was convincing himself as much as her.

 

His fingers drummed against the table, and his eyes were refusing to meet her own. “Something… something happened tonight. On patrol. There was a girl robbing people, looked about fourteen. Except she had some kind of haemokinesis - control over blood. She’d physically force them to give her their money, and then leave. I captured her quickly enough, but… I wasn’t paying attention when she was being cuffed. She used her quirk on one of the officers, made them strangle her.”  

 

His face was blank, and to a stranger he would probably have looked bored or uninterested. But it only took a glance at the tenseness of his posture and the clench in his jaw to know that underneath the apathetic facade, he was positively boiling with anger. Akane couldn’t honestly say she didn’t feel the same. 

 

“She killed herself. At fourteen. Whatever’s going on, whatever these kids are involved in, it’s gotten to the point where some of them would die rather than give up any information about it.” He let out a breath, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The determination she saw there was almost terrifying.    
  
“It’s not happening again.” His tone held a finality that spoke volumes. 

 

Silence engulfed them yet again, neither seeming entirely sure where to go from here.    
  
Softly, he muttered to her, “You… you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s dangerous, and you’ve got no obligation to help me--”   
  
“--Hang on, hold up --  **_no._ ** ” Akane interjected, glaring at him with a fire she rarely showed. “No. You don’t get to tell me that this is happening - that  _ children _ are in danger and that I could help them, then turn around and say I have no responsibility to do so. I’m a child psychologist, Aizawa. I  _ help _ kids - it’s practically the only thing I know how to do! So you can’t expect me to stand by and let you go putting yourself as well as them at risk if there’s even the slightest thing I can do to make it even just a little bit easier.” A sigh escaped her, and with it a good deal of her anger, although she was still infuriated - at the mystery force that was making children end their lives for its cause, at the world for being a place where that was even possible, and at Aizawa for acting as if she had no reason to help stop it.    
  
“I’m just saying, Aizawa. You brought me into this - don’t try and tell me I can get out of it, because I can’t. I won’t.”

 

He was staring at her with an intensity that set her heart racing. Had she overstepped? She didn’t regret what she had said in the slightest - she stood by it. But he was still the Pro in this situation; he was the one in charge, and how she had reacted to his giving her an out could easily be taken as highly offensive. Was this thing finished before it had started?   
  
Instead, he simply nodded.    
  
“Alright then. I s’pose that’s settled. Do you need anything to start with?”

 

“The kids’ arrest records would be good - it’ll give me some groundwork to go on.” 

 

He nodded again, and she took a final sip at the dregs of her now cold coffee, squinting at the first rays of morning sun filtering through the dust-coated windows of the shop. The erasure hero seemed to notice it too, turning to look behind him at the languid beams of light falling on the floor before checking his watch.    
  
“It’s nearly 6:30. We should get going if we want to get to work on time - it’s about a twenty-five minute walk from here to the school.” He began to get up, but she stopped him.

  
“Wait!”

 

Reddened eyes stared at her in slight confusion.

  
“Hm?”

 

“You… You probably shouldn’t go to school like, uh, like that,” she gestured to the patch of congealed blood surrounding the cut along his jaw. Nonchalantly, he lifted his hand to rub at the stain, some of the brown gunk flaking off, but the majority staying stuck to the side of his cheek.    
  
“Better?”   
  
“Um… No, not really. Here,” She reached into her bag, pulling out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, “Let me.”    
  
The hero took a step back, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’ve got a first-aid kit in my desk, I’ll deal with it there.”   
  
Her frown returned. “At least let me clean it - you’re gonna scare someone walking around on the street like that.”    
  


“They’ll live.”   
  
“Well it’d make  _ me _ feel better. It looks painful and I want to help.” He looked at her with an exasperated expression, but lifted his jaw.   
  
Tipping the water onto one of the tissues, she took a step forward and began to clean along his jawline, swiping gently at his skin and coming away with the oxidised brown that had been smeared across it. One of the things she hadn’t thought about when offering her help was the fact that their faces were now only inches away from each other, and their bodies were closer than they had ever been. A steady flush rose to her face as she tried to stop her heart from beating out of her chest. Still, she continued to wipe away the blood, feeling his soft breath tantalisingly close to her cheek, feeding into an image her mind had conjured up of what  _ other _ situations might have them this close to each other. Her eyes screwed shut momentarily as she tried to banish the thought. She shifted her leg a little to better reach the end of the wound, brushing against him every so slightly as she did so. His breath hitched. Had she hurt him?   
  
“Sorry!” She mumbled to him.

  
“ ‘s okay,” was his muttered response. A moment later, he spoke again.   
  
“You never did tell me why you were awake when I called you.”    
It wasn’t stated as a question, but she could read the enquiry behind the words.    
  
“Yeah, I… I don’t really sleep much. The nightmares, you know? I usually just work until about three or four and get maybe one or two hours of sleep before heading out.” the laugh she gave was weak, but she didn’t want him to think she was totally oblivious to how out of the ordinary her sleeping schedule was.    
  
A glance sideways showed recognition dawning across his face; she’d become oddly adept at perceiving the minute changes in his expression that displayed his mood.  

  
“The nightmares, do they ever leave you alone?” His voice was low and rough, sending shivers through her whole body, and she had to resist the urge to cross her legs despite standing upright. 

 

A small sigh escaped along with her answer, “Sometimes. A lot of the time I’m not actually using my quirk when I’m asleep, but the things I see from when I do come back as actual dreams. When your brain is constantly receiving visions of people’s literal worst nightmares, it needs an outlet for them, and when I’m asleep I can’t fight it, so it all comes tumbling out.” She rarely spoke about her quirk, let alone the effect it had even when not in use. But he had asked, and they _ were  _ going to be working together - he had let her in on something important; it felt only right to do the same.    
  
“It sounds… frustrating.”

 

She didn’t answer this time, but he was right. Finally, the cut was cleaned to her satisfaction and she stepped away.    
  
“All done! It looks a lot less severe now that you’re not covered in gunk. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of it.”   
  
Aizawa shrugged. “Probably for the best. I’ll disinfect it when we get to the school.” he began to make his way out the door with Akane trailing behind him, when he suddenly stopped to look back at her.

 

“Thank you.”   
  


“Oh! That’s no problem! It looked like it was worse than it was; I freaked out a little bit.”

 

He shook his head. “Not for that. For helping out with the other stuff. You didn’t have to.”

She levelled her gaze with him, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“We’ve been through this before - of course I did. Now, let’s get going before Nezu scolds both of us into the next century.”   
  
A faint chuckle reached her ears as he acquiesced to her request, walking through the door. The sound put a smile on her lips, though she didn’t fully realise it. They walked the rest of the way mostly in silence, although Kuro couldn’t help pointing out to him a sweet-looking cat sitting in the window of an apartment, gazing down on the street below. Kal had told her that Aizawa was fond of cats, but the gesture was more out of genuine delight than anything else.

 

They reached the gate just as the bell began to ring, and parted with a quick goodbye - both of them had places they needed to be. Neither of them saw the other’s tiny smile as they went their separate ways. But that wasn’t to say that  _ nobody _ saw them.    
  


After all, the window from classroom 1-A had a  _ very _ good view of the front gate.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the meddling squad.

Lunch was calling her name. No breakfast and a pitifully small dinner over ten hours ago meant that by the time she could take a moment to get at the noodles she'd bought from Lunch-Rush, Kuro was in real danger of downing the whole thing in one go regardless of the temperature. The tantalising aroma of meat broth, fresh chives and garlic had her watering at the mouth, and she was about to dig in with her chopsticks when a knock at the door interrupted the music playing through her headphones. 

 

God, couldn't she just enjoy her food in peace? She felt like snapping at whoever was knocking to go away and come back when she had something in her stomach, but even in her hunger induced irritation she knew that was neither polite or wise. Sigh.

 

“Yes? What is it?” She called, opening the door. Yaoyorozu Momo was standing in the doorway, her back straight and businesslike. The student offered her a short bow.

 

“Kuramoto-sensei, I hope I'm not interrupting something.”

 

Kuro gave the girl a smile, despite her remaining frustrations at being pulled from her lunch. She liked Momo - the serious black-haired teenager was driven and studious, but was still involved with her peers and took an interest in things that appealed to people her age.

 

“Not at all, Yaoyorozu-kun - I was just having lunch. How are you?”

 

“Very well, thank you. Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you for some help?”

  
Kuro raised an eyebrow. “What kind of help?”

 

“Well, our class has an assignment where we need to research how the analysis of children’s quirks has developed since the practice started - as vice class representative, I’ve started a study group with several of my classmates to help us achieve the best marks possible. Since you specialise in childhood quirks, I thought you might be able to help us.”   
  
A bright grin spread across her face. It was just like Momo to take initiative like this. She couldn’t refuse such a polite, earnest request.

 

“I’d be happy to! Give me a second to pack up my lunch and I’ll come right now!” 

 

The grin on Yaoyorozu’s face was impossible to miss.

 

Ten minutes later, she was sitting at a group of tables that had been moved together in the library, surrounded by about six students from 1-A including Momo, all of whom she recognised from various meetings over the months; Mina was hard to overlook with her pink skin and wide grin, but along with her were Kaminari, Tsu, Kirishima, and Hagakure, all sitting in various states of agitation or excitement that didn’t seem quite suited to researching for a school project. As soon as she walked in, Kirishima stood up, grinning widely.    
  
“Kuramoto-sensei! You actually came!”

 

Akane smiled back at the crimson-haired boy, slightly confused. “Of course I did, Kirishima. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

He seemed about to say something, when Mina spoke over him, “We just thought you’d be too busy to help us out with a stupid project like this! Right, Kirishima?”    
  
She turned to look at him, and he nodded vigorously, adding, “Yeah! Thanks!”

  
“It’s no problem, kids. Now, why don’t we get started? I’m sure you all want to get this over and done with as soon as possible, right?”

 

It was about twenty minutes into the period, the kids asking questions and her answering as best she could, when Hagakure spoke up.    
  
“Kuramoto-sensei, has the school changed much since you went here?”    
  
Akane tilted her head slightly; where had that come from? Still, she supposed it was normal to be curious about what the place had been like in the past. 

  
“Not a whole lot, I’ll be honest. The security’s a lot tighter and the tech’s been updated, but otherwise it’s pretty much the same.”

 

Her answer prompted another question, this time from Kaminari.    
  
“You and Kageyama were in the same class, right? That’s how you know each other.”   
  
She nodded. “Mhm.”   
  
“What about Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic? Did you know them?”   
  
What was with these questions? Were kids normally so interested in the school days of their teachers??    
  
“Uh, well they were in the year above Kal and I, so we didn’t really speak. But I knew _ of _ Mic, everyone did, even back then. As for Eraserhead, I can’t say I knew him well at all.” It wasn’t  _ technically _ a lie - they had never spoken, but Kuro had realised about a month ago why she had found Aizawa so familiar when they first met; he and his friends used to sit at a table across from she and Kal. Back then, she hadn’t known anything about him, but at a table with the indomitable Hizashi Yamada, the tired-looking boy with black hair and an odd scarf had stood out to her. The two were so different to each other, but she rarely saw them apart. It was interesting, to say the least.   
  
The entire group seemed a little deflated at the response, though she couldn’t think why. Suddenly, Mina seemed to perk up.   
  
“Well you know him  _ now _ ! What do you think of him?”

 

“What do I-  _ what? _ ” Realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. Bakugou must have said something to the class about her slip-up during his session and now the kids were prodding her about it. Her cheeks felt like fire as she tried to figure out how best to answer the question without causing more suspicion. Denying it outright had only made it worse last time - she had to be smart about this. Carefully, she began,    
  
“Well, I wouldn’t say I really  _ know _ him - we’ve spoken a few times, but nothing more than that, really. He seems very, um, dedicated to his work. It’s nice to see someone taking what they do so seriously.” She hoped that she sounded impassive rather than nervous, and shrugged her shoulders for good measure. The kids seemed unconvinced.   
  
“Then why were you walking to school together, ribbit?” Tsu piped up, tilting her head.   
  
“Asui!” Momo scolded, glaring at the amphibious teenager. Obviously, the fact that they had seen was meant to remain a secret within the class, one that she had just let out. As embarrassed as she was, Akane couldn’t help laughing.   
  
“God, you guys make me miss high school, which, believe me, is a  _ very _ impressive thing.”

The kids stopped bickering amongst themselves to look at her with expressions that ranged from anywhere between delighted and utterly confused.    
  
“Don’t look so surprised! Messing around with the lives of teachers is a time honoured tradition amongst students,” she said with a smile, before adding, “But quite honestly, there’s nothing between Aizawa and I. We were walking to school together because we happen to live close by and ended up on the same road. Okay?”    
  
They had the decency to look a little ashamed of themselves as they nodded one by one. A bright grin returned to her face.   
  
“Great! Now, let’s get back to work!” She looked back down to where she’d been writing her notes on their questions. As she did so, Mina looked towards Tsu and raised an eyebrow in question, to which she simply responded with a shake of the head. 

 

Akane’s bluff had been called, even if she didn’t know it. 

 

Several tables away, the topic of earlier conversation was trying to grade the papers he’d given the class earlier that day. Key word: _ trying.  _ It was nearly impossible to do so when the sound of Kuramoto’s laugh kept reaching him. Chancing a glance towards the noise, Aizawa saw her smiling happily with several of his students, her nose crinkling in the rather sweet way that it did whenever she was amused by something. Her hand reached out to ruffle Mina’s hair, and he couldn’t fight the smile inching its way up his face, instead opting to cover it with the capture weapon. Burying his head in his hands, he let out a sigh.   
  
God, he was  _ so  _ screwed.


	21. Chapter 21

“Did you get them?” Kuramoto stood in the doorway to her small flat, an excited grin on her face. Originally, Shouta had rejected the idea of meeting at her home to review the files he had secured on the kids that had been arrested; if he were to be followed, then she would be at risk of attack. Then, there was the fact that it was  _ her _ home - something about that felt too personal, like it would make it harder to remain professional. Eventually, though, he had relented. Her pout had far more power over him than it should reasonably have had.

 

“Of course.”  the reply was stiff and stilted, an air of discomfort surrounding him - she seemed to have picked up on it, and immediately moved aside to let him in.    
  
“I’m sorry about the mess- I cleared up the kitchen bench for us to work on but everything else is a bit hectic at the moment. I’ve got tea if you want it. Coffee, too!” she began to ramble in the way that he’d realised was her usual speech pattern when she was anxious. 

 

It was hard to believe that this girl who was practically radiating nervous energy in her own home was, only a week ago, telling him off with a fire that was both scary and utterly electrifying at the same time. He’d never seen that side of her before - sure of her words and determined in a way that seemed to consume her entire body. Aizawa had known she cared about the wellbeing of children - she wouldn’t have been such a good psychologist if she didn’t - but that had been the first time it dawned on him just how much. The instance in the library with his students was yet another confirmation of her love for them. It was almost motherly, the way she had laughed and teased with them. 

 

And then there was the way she had acted when cleaning his cut. That had been near torture, having her so close to him he could feel her breath along his neck, her fingers tracing his jaw. He hadn’t even felt the sting of the injury, he was so focused on not doing anything he would regret later.

 

“Tea’s fine. Do you want to start from the earliest arrest or the latest?”

  
“Earliest seems like the best idea,” she replied, placing the kettle over the stove and moving to sit next to him on the counter that he’d already spread the records across. He pointed to one nearest to him.    
  
“That’s the first one, then. Or the first one I arrested, anyway.”

 

Long fingers reached across to pull it towards her, opening up the yellow folder to the first page. He watched her face as her eyes sped across the words, taking in her features as she took in information. There was an intensity to her gaze when she was focused, worrying at her bottom lip in a way that was far more alluring than it had any right to be. He  _ needed _ to stop staring at her whenever she looked like that.

 

Tearing his eyes away was a hard task, but he satisfied his gaze by glancing around him as she read in silence. The apartment was small, and far neater than she gave it credit for - anyone who’d seen Hizashi’s house would have a hard time calling how she lived messy. The layout was open-plan, giving him a view of the living room from his seat in the tiled kitchen. Even from his vantage point, he could see that there were no pictures along the walls or on the coffee-table. No childhood memories preserved, no selfies with friends, no family portraits. The room was completely devoid of photographs, and he couldn’t help wondering why. Everyone he knew had some sort of memorabilia scattered throughout their living space. 

 

Everyone except him, that was.  

 

Which was why he was so confused. He had assumed that Kuramoto would be the kind that held her family to her like a lifeline - weekly phone calls, coming home for the holidays, the whole package. Not like this. Not like him. 

 

“Aizawa, have you noticed that all these kids live in the old industrial district? The one that’s got all the state housing now.”

  
He looked back at her, reading the locations she had highlighted on the files.   
  
“Yeah, I did. Whoever’s controlling them is working within a specific area for recruitment, even if their range of activity is larger.”    
  
“Right - but that’s not the only commonality. A ton of them already have criminal records - nothing big, just stuff like petty theft and vandalism.”   
  
“So do most of the people in that area. Not solid enough to build a connection on.” 

 

She pursed her lips, “that’s true, but here’s the thing - literally _ every _ kid here has at least one parent dead, in jail, or otherwise missing from their lives. Most of them in connection to the police, as well.” 

 

The chill of recognition seized him, although he gave no outward indication. That was almost too close for comfort. He didn’t need to be told what it was like to have the police showing up at the house, giving the death knock. Didn’t need to relive the cardboard sympathy on their faces as they said ‘dead under suspicious circumstances’. Didn’t need to see his mother trying to stay composed, then collapsing into shaking, stuttering sobs once the door was closed. Didn’t need to look at her and realise, ‘now it’s just us’. 

 

He didn’t want to remember, which was why he never put anything in his house that would make him do so. Was Kuramoto doing the same thing? It wasn’t that he didn’t like reminders of his family - rather, he couldn’t stand being reminded of what had happened to it. Aizawa would never admit it, but he did want a family. Not that it was very likely in his line of work, but the desire was still there, deep down. If he were to have children, he’d want there to be someone else doing it with him; he wanted the child he was raising to know what it was like to have parents who loved each other as much as they loved them. Yet another reason why it was an impossibility.    
  
“Aizawa?”

 

The soft voice brought him back to the present, back to Kuramoto, who was looking at him with a concern that was admittedly rather endearing. 

 

“Hm?”   
  


“You zoned out for a second. You feeling okay?”   
  
“Yeah,” he lied, “so they’ve all got an absent parent? Why’s that important?”

 

“Well, the removals were mostly related to the police, right? Wouldn’t it stand to reason that that means there’s a possibility someone in the force is behind this? Or at least involved?”   
  
It was surprising how quickly she’d thought of that connection - he hadn’t even considered it until now, but he had to admit that it made sense. An unstable home life meant that it would be a lot easier to talk a kid into something with the promise of affection or stability. Someone with connections to law enforcement would know which families had children missing a parent, and would have a relatively smooth time taking advantage of that.   
  
“There’s definitely a chance that’s the case. If it is, then we can’t go to the police until we know who it is. What do you think would be the next thing to do?” He asked, curious as to what she would suggest.    
  
A thoughtful look crossed her face before she answered,   
  
“I think we should talk to one of the parents. They know the children better than anyone, and if their kid starts acting weird then they’re bound to notice.”   
  
She had a point. It was the sensible course of action.    
  
“Alright, I’ll start looking into which parents are still in the city.”   
  
That smile again, brightening up at her eyes until they looked like stars with the way the light danced off them.    
  
“You think it’s a good idea?”   
  
“Yeah, sure. It’s a good place to start.”

 

He was about to say more when he felt his stomach growl. By the worried but amused look on her face, she’d heard it too.   
  
“Do you want something to eat? I’ve got curry pork in the fridge. Made it myself last night. We can keep working over dinner if you want.”

  
He wanted to say yes. Dear  _ God, _ he wanted to say yes.    
  
“I can’t. I’ve got work soon and I don’t want to stay too long.”   
  
Her face, previously so bright, fell immediately and he felt his resolve crumble just a little bit.  He needed to get going before he actually decided to sit down with her and eat something she’d cooked, even if it wasn’t for him.    
  
“... I could probably take a container of it, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I took a few liberties when talking about Aizawa's past, but given his childhood is never really talked about in canon, I felt like this was a good way to create further similarities between them.


	22. Chapter 22

He probably should have thought this through. As good as the food was, Shouta would have infinitely preferred to eat on patrol while alone, not being bothered by Hizashi for where he had gotten it. Sitting cross-legged on the ledge of a block of flats overlooking the gang hideout being monitored, he watched as his friend swung his legs back and forth through the air below his perch. 

  
“Seriously man, you didn’t think to bring anything for me?!” 

 

Even in his ‘stake-out’ voice, which was essentially a glorified stage whisper, Hizashi was altogether too loud for someone talking to a person right next to him. 

 

“No. I wasn’t even planning on bringing this, why would I have gotten you something?”    
  
  


“Because we’re  _ friends _ , Shouta! Friends don’t let friends starve! And it smells _ amazing _ !”  
  
  
With the way Mic could put away food, Aizawa doubted he’d be starving any time soon. Eyes still trained on the building, he lifted his chopsticks to his mouth. His friend wasn’t kidding, it did smell incredible. And it tasted even better.   
  
  
“Too bad. Besides, I doubt Kuramoto had enough left over for two containers--” he shut his mouth quickly, realising his mistake too late. He’d been caught.

  
“WHAAAT?! You were at Kuro’s place?!” The excitement in his voice was palpable, and Shouta had to quiet him with a harsh shush so he wouldn’t give away their location. “Don’t shush me, Eraserhead! Why didn’t you tell me you guys were hooking up!?”   
  


At that, Aizawa nearly choked on his food. Of  _ course _ that was where Yamada’s mind went.   
  
  
“I’m- We’re definitely  _ not _ ‘hooking up’. I’ve brought her into the operation I’m working on - the one with the kids. We were reviewing files and it got later than I thought it would. She gave me something to eat. That’s all.”

 

Mic gave an exaggerated sigh, fixing Shouta with a stare that expressed nothing but exasperation. “Dude. When are you going to ask her out? You obviously like her, don’t deny it.”   
  
  
Thank god for the darkness, or the heat on his face would have destroyed any lie he tried to tell.   
  
  
“I hope you realise how idiotic you sound whenever you say something like that. There’s nothing going on, and you know it.”  
  
  
“But there _ could  _ be - have you seen the way she looks at you? She might as well be holding a sign over her head that says ‘I have a huge crush!’ ”    
  


There was a feeling in his chest, something that felt suspiciously like hope. Mic was seeing things that weren’t there, obviously. She barely looked him in the eye when they spoke in person, and it wasn’t as if the conversation’s they’d had were anything other than work-related discussions. 

 

_ But it was possible, wasn’t it?  _

 

He hated that part of his brain that made him think like that, like there might be an actual chance she was as interested in him as he found himself in her. 

His chatterbox friend continued, “Besides, if I have to spend one more day watching you drool over her every time she’s got something in her mouth I may actually have a breakdown.”

  
As much as he wanted to come up with some witty retort to Hizashi’s observations, he knew at a subconscious level he couldn’t rightly accuse him of making something out of nothing. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as the voice hero made it sound, but he definitely had a hard time looking at anything else if Kuramoto was sucking on something, be it a pen, candy, or her own finger. If outright lying wouldn’t work, he could at least make use of the reputation he’d built as a hero and a teacher.

  
“I don’t have time for a relationship, even if I wanted one - which I don’t,” so much for not lying outright. “Unlike you, Yamada, I take my work seriously. As does Kuramoto, which is why I’m working with her in the first place.”

 

Aizawa’s defense seemed to trigger a change in the yellow-haired man next to him, his shoulders dropped slightly, and the seemingly ever-present grin he put on for audiences disappeared.    
  
“Shouta, how long have we known each other?”   
  
“Since we were in elementary school. Why?” Where was Hizashi going with this? His friend stretched his arms behind him, before turning back to him. 

 

“In all that time, you’ve always been focused on looking after someone other than yourself. First with your mom, and I know--” he raised a hand to halt Shouta’s reasoning, “I know that you thought that was your job, and maybe it was. But even after that, it was hero work, and then teaching. It’s always someone else. Always another person for you to save. Just this once, do something for  _ you _ , man,” he placed a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder, and unlike he usually did, Shouta didn’t pull away in annoyance. “You’ve been through a lot - so’s Kuramoto, for that matter. Kal told me how hard she had it in school. She’d be good for you, and I think you’d be good for her.” 

 

There was nothing he could say to that. It was rare for Hizashi to break from his happy-go-lucky radio persona, but when he did it was usually because of something he genuinely cared about. He wasn’t toying with him, Shouta knew that much. Mic genuinely believed that not only did Kuro feel the same, but that a relationship between them would actually work out. Even so, did that mean what he was saying was objectively true? There were an infinite number of ways his friend could be wrong in his assumptions, even with the best intentions. If he tried something, and it turned out that he’d been picking up on all the wrong signals, then he wasn’t sure how he would manage.

 

His excuse not to answer came in the form of a stout man with large green horns protruding from his head knocking on the door of the building below them, who Hizashi had earlier identified as the regional head of a national drug cartel. Nudging his friend, Shouta murmured to him, “that’s your guy, yeah?” which was met with a slight nod.    
  
“He’s heading inside. We should hit him when he comes out. I can get onto the telephone pole out the front and ambush from there.” 

  
Mic nodded, although he seemed reluctant to drop the topic. Just as Aizawa was about to hop out towards the powerlines, he felt a hand around his wrist.   
  
“Think about it, Shouta. There’s no point never saying anything and then regretting it years later. Besides,” he suddenly switched back to the overly loud and slightly obnoxious hero that everyone around him knew, “I bet Kal two thousand yen that you’d make a move by the end of the term. I really don’t feel like losing that one.”   
  
Unsure what else to do, he simply nodded, before turning away and swinging across to his new position. Damned Yamada, always giving him things to think about at the worst possible times.


	23. Chapter 23

 

Kuro only talked to her parents three times a year; her birthday, one of  _ their _ birthdays, and Christmas. Unfortunately, the second of those three occasions happened to be today. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents - she did, enormously so. The problem was that speaking with either of them only served to compound all the guilt she felt for causing their divorce with their thinly veiled requests for her to contact them more often. It wasn’t healthy, and it only served to make her feel worse, but it was all she knew how to do anymore. 

 

The soft dial tone of her phone hummed in her ears as she tried to steady her breathing. Part of her, the cowardly part, wanted to hang up; it always did. She could write a postcard instead, say she had forgotten. Mom would accept that, she knew, even if it broke her heart. A thumb hovered over the ‘end call’ button, but was stopped in its path by the sound of the call being picked up on the other end.    
  
“Akane!” Her mother’s voice resounded with false cheer in the tinny speaker of the device. The call was on speakerphone while she reviewed files, but even that wasn’t the best sound quality. She smiled sadly, in the exact same way she imagined her mother would be doing thousands of miles away. Her sandy hair and brown eyes took after her dad, but she had always had her mother’s mouth.   
  
“Hey, Mom. Happy Birthday.” As much as she tried to sound happy, the wish came out hollow as a dead tree. “How are you?”

 

“Oh, I’m alright. Kyoto is so lovely this time of year, it’s such a shame you’ve never gotten to see it.” Hidden in the vague statement was an unspoken offer to visit. This was how these calls always went; awkward niceties and exchanges of goodwill, dancing around offers to visit either her mother in Kyoto or her father in Hirota Bay, deflected by her own vague excuse.   
  
“Oh, I wish I could, but work’s been really hectic lately; starting a new job and all that.”

 

An embarrassed laugh came from the tiny speakers of the device. “Of course, I nearly forgot you’ve started working at U.A again! How is it? Are the other members of staff people you know? Are they alright with you not being a pro?”

  
“Yeah, Mom. It’s… it’s nice. The teachers are lovely. Kal’s working there, too.”   
  
“Kageyama?” Her mother sounded incredulous. “Your friend from school? I thought she’d disappeared!”   
  
“So did I, but apparently she started here a few months before I did. She’s been really great helping me get used to everything again, and introducing me to people. We went out to a club about a month ago with some of the others, too.” 

 

“A club? I didn’t know you went to clubs!” That confused tone again. 

 

_ You don’t know much of anything I do anymore, _ she thought to herself.

 

“I don’t normally, but I decided to make an exception.”   
  
“Of course! That Kal always had a knack for bringing you out of your shell. Speaking of clubs,” She paused, and Kuro could hear a shift in tone that reminded her of when she was about to get a parenting lecture. “Makoto’s been going out at night recently - he came home last Friday at three in the morning!”

 

Makoto was Akane’s younger half-brother. At seventeen, he was everything that Kuro wasn’t; extroverted, stable,  _ normal _ . She had only met him a few times, but with the way her mother went on about him on the few occasions they spoke over the phone, Akane couldn’t help feeling like she knew more about him than she would have if they’d been living in the same house. She resented it slightly, being second in her mother’s affections to a boy she hadn’t seen in years.    
  
_ You only have yourself to blame,  _ she reminded herself,  _ Mom deserves at least one kid who doesn’t threaten her mental stability. _

 

“Really? I hope he’s being responsible about it.”   
  
“He wasn’t driving, if that’s what you mean. He wasn’t even very drunk. I just wish he’d called us!”    
  
“Well that’s good, at least. You’ve talked with him about it, right?”   
  
“Yes, and he’s promised not to do it again. Oh, he’s got a girlfriend now, too! Her name’s Kioko!” The joy in her voice broke Kuro’s heart slightly. “She’s lovely, you’d really like her! Speaking of which,” oh God, she knew what was coming next. “Are you seeing anybody?”

 

A flash of black hair and tired eyes ran through her head, but she pushed it back. Dating had never been at the front of Kuro’s mind; with her unstable quirk and awkward demeanour, a relationship was something that she’d never put too much thought into. She’d tried a few times, of course, but nothing had really stuck. Anyway, as it stood now, the only person she was even remotely interested in was… well, she wasn’t going to follow that train of thought.

 

“No, I’m not. I’ve been pretty busy, so I haven’t had the time.”    
  
She hated the disappointment embodied in the disembodied voice of her mother as she replied, “Oh, well. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.”   
  
_ I’m not and you know it, _ Her inner voice snapped. _ What were you expecting, Mom? That I’ve suddenly worked everything out and now I’m happily married? Who the fuck would want to marry me?  _ Bitterness was tingling at the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back.   
  


“Yeah. Sure. Hey, I’ve got to get going, Mom. I have a patient in a few minutes and I need to organise my files. I’ll call you later, ‘kay?” Two lies in one sentence - she was going to set a new world record if she wasn’t careful.   
  
“Right.” Kuro could hear the sigh, but chose to ignore it. “Well, keep up the good work, sweetheart. I’ll tell your father you said ‘hi’.”   
  
“You do that. Happy Birthday, Mom.”

 

The call ended, and silence engulfed her in a smothering embrace that was both terrifying and comforting. Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to stop the tears brimming at the corners of her vision from falling, letting out a strangled cough-sob as she did so. She had missed her mom’s voice, as much as she hated hearing it. It reminded her of when she was still normal, as long ago as it was. 

 

Her attention solely on trying to remain as stable as possible, she missed the shadow moving across the doorway, away from the spot it had been standing in for the better part of the call. Even if she had noticed, she would never have guessed who it was, or just how much it understood all too well what she was feeling. 

 

As far as she was aware, she was totally alone. 


	24. Chapter 24

On the soft carpet floor of Akane’s living room, a castle was taking shape. Blue, yellow, red and green lego blocks clipped into each other in a multicolour monolith, reaching the top of the table she and Chiyoh were crouched next to. Last week, Kuro had discovered the child’s love of building, and had bought the set specifically for their next lesson, much to the six-year-old’s delight.   
  
“Can we add windows, Kuro-chan?” she asked, poking curiously at the walls of the structure.    
  
“I’m sure we can, but it might mean we have to take out some of the blocks. Is that okay?”

 

She nodded, and Kuro carefully unattached some of the upper layers, removing some of the middle blocks to make rectangular holes.    
  
“There! Now we can have sunlight in our castle!”

 

Treating Chiyoh was an interesting mix of playing games and unpicking a damaged psyche, but Akane had found that she enjoyed it immensely. She didn’t usually work with children this young, but in making an exception she found that she harboured an affection for them that for some reason had an ache forming in her chest. Snapshots of another life would flash in her head on occasion, from a life where someone wanted her enough to have children with her. Where she had the chance to be a mother. As it stood, looking after the kids she saw would be as close as she would ever get.

 

“Let’s put the roof on now!” The dark haired girl sitting cross-legged in front of her chirped.    
  
“Alright! You made such a nice roof, too!” she replied, watching as the slightly lopsided ‘awning’ roof was placed on the top of their creation. “There! All done! Now,” she flashed a smile, “Who’s gonna live in our castle?”

 

Chiyoh though for a moment, as if weighing up her options with a serious look on her face.    
  
“A princess is going to live there.” she decided, crossing her arms in finality. 

  
“A princess? What a good idea! I’m sure she’ll love the castle we’ve made for her. Will the king and queen live with her?”

The child shook her head. “No. The king and queen are her mommy and daddy and they don’t like each other.” Her response was so matter of fact that it caught Kuro slightly off her guard. It made sense that Chiyoh would think like that - she didn’t even remember a time when her parents weren’t fighting, of course she would think that was normal.

  
“Really? Why don’t they like each other?”

 

“Because the princess is bad. She made her mommy and daddy sad, so they don’t like her or each other anymore.”    
  
Akane was sure that if the drilling outside stopped, she would be able to hear her own heart shattering into little pieces. She brought her knees up to her chest, looking at her patient with sympathetic eyes.    
  
“Chiyoh, are you the princess?”   
  
She nodded, shoulders slumped in her stripy blue-and-white sweater. It was hard not to cry, seeing her like that; so small and dejected, the weight of her words piled on her back. 

  
“Why do you think your mommy and daddy getting divorced is your fault?”   
  
“Because,” her bottom lip wobbled, “They always fight about me; if I wasn’t here they’d still love each other.”

 

How many times had she thought that herself? Even with all her training, even with the logical reasoning telling her it wasn’t true, there was always a voice inside her head telling her the exact same thing coming from Chiyoh’s mouth. But just because she had yet to shake those thoughts didn’t mean Chiyoh would have to live with them.

 

“Is it because of your quirk?”   
  
Another nod. “If I could control it, then they wouldn’t fight.”   
  
“Have they ever said that?”   
  
“No, but I know it’s true.”   
  
It really was like staring a younger version of herself in the face. She wanted to hug her, and tell her that everything would be okay, that she’d grow up and her parents would love her with all their hearts and them living apart would never change that. But with what she knew of the case, she knew that would be borderline lying. All she could do was help her realise that what was happening wasn’t her fault. 

 

“Chiyoh, I need you to look at me, can you do that?”

  
Their eyes met, and she could see the mirror-sheen of tears pushing at her client’s brown pupils.    
  
“Your mommy and daddy have never told you that because it isn’t true. If they didn’t love you, they wouldn’t be fighting so hard to make sure you stayed with one of them. You are  _ not _ the reason they’re getting divorced, okay?”

 

The child didn’t look as if she believed what was being said to her, but nodded anyway.    
  
“I’m serious. Sometimes, people decide that what they thought they wanted isn’t right for them. Your mom and dad thought that they wanted to be together, but they realised that they were wrong; it happens, and it’s got nothing to do with you or your quirk.”

 

“But… but…” tears began to roll down the child’s cheeks, wiped away by a chubby hand. “I want my mommy and daddy to-- to love each other again… I want to go _ home _ , not to mommy’s hotel or daddy’s house! I want to go  _ home! _ ” as her plea became more and more hysterically high-pitched, Akane could see the dark orange rot crawling it’s way across the lego house from where she was touching, slowly making a path towards the floor and nearer to her. Oh shit, this was bad. Her attempts to calm the child were falling on deaf ears, drowned out by pitiful sobs. She was usually adept at cooling a tantrum, but not when getting within five feet meant risking getting covered in a flesh-eating mould. 

 

Her mind was whirring with strategies to stop the destruction, trying to keep her voice measured as she continued to speak to Chiyoh. If this went on any longer, it would reach her spot on the couch and she would have to risk moving closer. If Fukuharu was here she could calm Chiyoh easily, but the social worker had gone to buy lunch for the kid. She should be back soon, but who knew if that would be enough time to calm Chiyoh before she got too destructive.    
  
She was about to take the risk and approach her patient directly, when suddenly, it was as if everything had just… stopped.    
  
The rot had disappeared, and the only sound was her own breath, mixing with Chiyoh’s and… someone else’s. Turning around to see where Chiyoh was staring, she realised the cause of the sudden ceasefire.    
  
  
“Aizawa?”

 

His hair had settled down, and his eyes no longer gave off the telltale red glow that they did when his quirk was in use, but it was clear what had happened. He looked from her to the child on the floor, staring at him in wonder and confusion.    
  
“I heard yelling. Your door was open.” 

 

“Oh.” She looked at the floor. “Right. Thank you.”

 

“No problem.” The erasure hero seemed unsure of what else to say. He looked like he was about to speak again, when a voice from behind him piped up.   


  
“Kuramoto, who’s this?”   
  


Stepping aside revealed the confused face of Fukuharu, who was holding a plastic bag of takeout in one hand. Shit. These sessions were meant to be private, and having someone unapproved walk in was a definite no-go. Still, it was better to just bite the bullet.   
  
  
“Fukuharu, this is Aizawa Shouta, my coworker from U.A, he--”  
  
  
“He stopped my quirk, Fuku-chan!” Open amazement was clear on the child’s face as she spoke, and if Akane had been looking at Aizawa at that moment, she would have caught the ghost of a smile as he looked down at the kid. 

  
A moment of realisation seemed to hit the social worker, and she turned to Kuro slightly with a questioning look, to which she nodded her affirmation. It was pretty clear that she’d put two and two together about who he was.   
  
  
“I didn’t know that Kuramoto was seeing a patient. Sorry.” The apology was stilted, but Fukuharu nodded her forgiveness.   
  
  
“It’s alright. Actually, I’m here to pick Chiyoh up anyway. Kuro, can you email me the transcripts? The judge wants them for court records.”  
  
  
She nodded, watching as the child in question lifted herself up from the floor and skipped towards her guardian as if nothing had happened. “Bye Kuro-chan!” she chirruped as the door closed behind her.   
  
  
“I’m really sorry about that.” Were the first words from Aizawa’s mouth.   
  
  
“Don’t be. She was having an episode; I’m not sure what I would have done otherwise.”   
  
  
“Right.”   
  
  
“So, um…” she trailed off, fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket. “What’re you doing here?”  Akane doubted he would have showed up out of the blue for no reason. Despite his blank expression, she could tell that what he as about to tell her was important. She wasn’t quite expecting what he said next, though.   
  
  
“I got a meeting with one of the parents.”


	25. Chapter 25

The low hum of voices and footsteps on cement buzzed quietly in the background of the concrete monolith that was the rehabilitation centre they had arrived at. Chewing at her bottom lip, Akane looked around the waiting room where they were seated. Despite the staff’s efforts to make the place seem more welcoming, the bright colours and cliche motivational posters lining the walls seemed to only increase the sense of empty desperation present in the room. 

 

The silence was broken by Aizawa, who was sitting beside her looking just as out of place as she.    
  
“The kid you were with, does stuff like that happen often?”

 

She tightened her lips, figuring out a response.    
  
“Sometimes. It’s based on her emotional state - normally she’s just fine.” An apologetic smile was turned his way, “that’s all I can tell you, sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, I understand patient confidentiality. She seems like a sweet kid.”   
  
Her smile widened affectionately. “She definitely is - I’ve been seeing her for a few months now and she’s certainly grown on me.”

 

He looked like he was about to say something back, when one of the employees who had taken their names down returned to the room. “Well, I’ve checked with the boss and apparently it’s okay for Ms Kirasaki to have visitors, so if you two would be so kind as to follow me to the visitor’s lounge, I can take you to her directly.” Her chirpy voice seemed out of place with the depressing atmosphere of the facility, but both Kuramoto and Aizawa rose to trail the orderly.    
  
“So we’re seeing Kirasaki Hanako’s mother? The kid with the--”   
  
“The haemokinesis, yeah.” Aizawa wasn’t looking at her as he spoke, instead looking ahead of him with a blank expression. “She was the easiest to track down, admitted here for opiate addiction last month.”  It was obvious he wasn’t totally comfortable with the situation, and Kuro couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for suggesting the visit given his obvious guilt over what had happened to this woman’s daughter.

 

“Aizawa, you don’t have to speak with her if you don’t want to; I can just do all the talking, if you’d like?” 

 

He didn’t respond, instead staying quiet until they reached the door with ‘Visitors’ printed on cloudy glass.    
  
“I’ll be outside the whole time, so if you need anything let me know. Also you should be aware that there are security cameras in use at all times in this room and we reserve the right to end the visit at any time should we feel it is necessary.” From their parroted tone, it was clear that the words were obviously rehearsed. The nurse quickly dropped the authoritative recital however, and added cheerfully, “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, though!”

 

The door swung open to reveal a small woman with sallow skin, sunken in by years of drug-use rather than age. Hair clung to her scalp in greasy strands, with a colour that must once have been a magnificent deep red, now faded and damaged to brittle umber. She didn’t look up immediately, instead lifting her head slowly and deliberately, as if it were some kind of heavy burden atop her neck.    
  
“I already spoke to the police about Hanako - told you everything I knew. What else d’you want?”

Her voice was reedy and fragile like the rest of her, suspicion lacing every word. It had been easy enough to convince the staff that they were with Law Enforcement - Aizawa had showed them his official I.D and that was that.    
  
Akane sat down across from the woman, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible while she took out her notebook and pen.    
  
“Ms Kirasaki, my colleagues were looking for information regarding your daughter’s activities - I’m a psychologist, not a detective. I want to know what your daughter was like, not what she did. If I can do that, it will help us to figure out what exactly she was trying to do the night she… the night she passed away.” Her eyes flickered involuntarily to the man beside her, who was staring at the table. 

 

Kirasaki considered what she had said for a few seconds, before nodding. “Alright. Not as if I’ve got anything better to do.”

 

A miniscule sigh of relief escaped her as she looked to the first of the questions she’d composed on the way over. “Well, first of all, how would you describe your relationship with your daughter?”

 

Eido Kirasaki winced at the query. “In a word? Nonexistent. We were real close when she was a kid, but about a year ago she started gettin’ distant, like I told the detectives last week.” She shrugged, although the action didn’t seem as nonchalant as it was intended to be. 

 

“Distant? Was she going out more often? Getting in trouble?”   
  
She shook her head. “No, no nothing like that, but she was staying out later than usual. Her record dried up, actually. Nothing, not even little things.”

 

That had been the opposite of what she’d expected; usually, if a child was beginning to involve themselves in a gang, their criminal records picked up quickly.    
  
“So was she acting different? More standoffish, like she was trying to pick a fight with you?”   
  
“Different, yeah, but not aggressive-like. Hana was always a firecracker, but then she started to get real quiet all the time, always smiling.  ” An involuntary shudder went through the mother’s body, as if someone had poured ice down her back.

 

“And then there was the stuff she would talk about; going on and on about the ‘ills of society’, and how one day, things would be better for us.”

 

Kuro shared a look with the man sitting beside her - this was getting into familiar territory.

 

“Us? Do you know what she meant by that?”

 

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, Kirasaki’s bloodshot eyes darting around like a scared animal. “Our quirks. She inherited it from me. I never knew how to help her- never could. ’S what put me in here,” she gestured to the room around her. “Hana was alone most of the time; never wanted to use her quirk until-” she cut herself off, looking like she’d made a mistake.

 

“Until when, Ms Kirasagi?” Akane’s voice was soft, coaxing an answer from the paper-thin woman. She worked mostly with children, but when it came to answering a question they didn't want to face, people rarely changed.

 

“Until I tried to stop her leaving one night. I wanted to talk to her, but she said she was busy. I tried to block the door but she… she used her quirk to make me lock myself in my room. I couldn't see where she went, but the next morning the police showed up to tell me she was dead.” Cracked lips curled upwards in a rueful smile that looked like more of a snarl, and when she looked at Kuro it felt like the woman had just solved a puzzle that only she could see.

 

“You aren’t really police, are you?”

 

So she’d figured it out. What had given them away? For a moment, she considered lying, but the certainty with which those words had been spoken told her that doing so would only serve to further prove the statement. Composing her features so as not to portray surprise, she responded slowly.

 

“How did you figure it out?”

 

She shrugged. “I’d already told the police about what happened before she died - if you really were with them you’d already know.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you? What d’you want with Hana?”

 

Akane was about to answer when she heard Shouta’s voice from beside her, startling her slightly.

 

“Hana’s death was part of something bigger than just her. We’re trying to figure out what it is before anyone else gets hurt.” The flat tone of his voice barely hinted at it, but she could feel the determination boiling under Aizawa’s expressionless face. 

 

Kirasaki eyed him cautiously, “You’re saying my kid was part of a gang or something?”

 

Kuramoto met her gaze. “That’s the thing - we don’t exactly know. But we know that it’s dangerous, and we know that the police aren’t taking it as seriously as they should. What happened to Hanako should have put them into action, not been brushed off as another kid who fell in with the wrong crowd. So if there’s anything you can tell us that could help us figure out what’s happening and stop it, then you could be stopping another kid like Hana ending up like she did.” 

 

An already thin mouth pressed into a tight line, weighing up Kuro’s words. Finally, she took a shaky breath.   
  
“There was something I didn’t show the cops. I found it in her journal before they searched her room; wanted to keep something of hers without them touching it.”  She muttered, digging into her pocket to pull out her phone. Flicking the screen on, she pulled up a photo of a cheap lined notebook with a scrawl in black across the page. When Kuro squinted, she could make out the words messily inked along the faint blue lines. 

  
  


_‘The world is poison._ ** _Poison._** **_Poison!!_** _We live in the shadows like cockroaches, like_ _villains_ _. But it will change - the world will change. Mother will fix the rotten world. Mother will fix them, make them see._ _They’ll see what they’ve done._ _We will come from the cracks and make them regret making us what we are. Make them_ ** _REGRET IT._** _Mother will make them regret. Mother will protect her children - her children will not have to HIDE ANYMORE. I am to help mother. I will not be back. But the world will be_ _BETTER_ _.’_

  
  


As the sentiment intensified, a sense of dread began to claw at Kuro’s heart. She had so many questions, she didn’t know where to begin. Thankfully, Aizawa started for her.    
  
“When she says ‘mother’, she’s not talking about you, is she?”

 

Eido shook her head, knuckles clenched around the edge of the table. “I don’t know who she’s talking about - she never wrote any names.”

 

Akane’s brow furrowed in thought.    
  
“Ms Kirasaki, is there a chance we could get a copy of the diary? It’ll help to have a full reference for how she thought in the months leading up to the incident.”    
  
“I… I guess? I’ve still got it, but sending things outside the facility needs special permission; I’d have to process a request and wait for it to get approved.”   
  
“How long will that take?”

 

“Maybe two weeks? Never done it before, so I don’t know.” 

  
Kuro was about to answer with confirmation that that would be alright, but the soft rapping on the door to the visitor’s lounge caught her attention as the face of the cheerful orderly from earlier peeked through. 

 

“Detectives? I’m sorry to cut it short but we need to get all the patients to lunch. You could stick around and pick the interview up again later?”   
  
“Oh, I’m not sure if--”   
  
“That’s not needed.” Aizawa’s low voice cut through her words like a knife. “We’ve got everything we need.”    
  
“Alright! Well, if you’re done here I can take you back out to the waiting room.”   
  


  
The door closed behind them and the once quiet hallway they were walking through was now a hive of activity, all heading in the opposite direction, towards where the mess hall must have been. Kuro had never liked crowds, and especially in as an oppressive a place as this, she felt utterly trapped. Oddly, the slight warmth radiating from the man beside her was calming in a way she couldn’t quite place. The pathway was starting to clear when the echoing bang of an impact against brick had her gaze, along with Aizawa’s, shooting behind her.    
  
A man was being restrained by three orderlies, snarling and spitting with his gaze spaced out and unfocused. He was stronger than he looked, and before Akane could blink he had broken free of his guards and began barrelling down the hallway. Closer and closer, until she could see the whites of his eyes. Distantly, she realised that if she didn’t move she would be knocked over - she had to step away, but her feet seemed frozen to the floor. 

 

Closer, closer. She could hear his breath in her ears.    
  
If she didn’t move she was going to be hit.

 

She was going to be hit, she was going to be hit,  _ she was going to be-- _

 

Fabric wrapped around her wrist, pulling her backwards into the solid warmth of  _ someone.  _ Blood and adrenaline pumped through her veins as she watched her would-be assailant run straight into off-white bandages floating of their own accord, grabbing his limbs and holding fast. He fell and was hauled back by the nurses following behind, shaking and screeching like an animal. In the deafening silence that followed, she looked up towards the person who had pulled her out of the way, realising what should have been obvious from the first. 

 

“Are you okay?” The concern in his tired eyes had her heart racing all over again as he stared down at her, strands of black hair settling back down over his face in a way that made her want to smooth it back to look at him properly. 

 

Answer. He’d asked a question, and she needed to answer.    
  
“Y-Yeah… I think so. I don’t know what happened, I just froze. Sorry.”   
  
Her eyes fell down to her feet, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.    
  


“It’s alright - you got caught off guard is all.”   
  
“Right, yeah. Thanks for getting me out of the way - that thing really is useful, huh?” She asked, gesturing to the capture weapon, which had wound its way back around his neck.    
  
“Yeah. It is.” His answer was plain enough, but he was staring at her so intensely and with something so foreign in his gaze that she almost shivered.    
  
“Um.. Aizawa?”   
  
“Mm?”   
  
“You’ve, uh… my wrist.” She lifted the offending limb lightly, and the cord unravelled itself with breakneck speed, returning to its rightful place.    
  
“Sorry.”   
  
“It’s okay.” She meant the words, but her mind was quickly wandering somewhere else. If she’d nearly been taken down by an addict with withdrawal symptoms, then she really must be out of practice. After years of staying out of the hero life, she was now right in its epicentre, but with none of the skills to match.

  
Maybe it was time to give Kal a call.   



	26. Chapter 26

“So let me get this straight - you, Kuramoto Akane, the altruistic nerd who refused to be a hero because you didn’t want to hurt people, have decided that you want _ combat training _ ?” Kal leaned against the wall of the gym, an incredulous look on her face.    
  
Kuro fidgeted slightly in her exercise clothes, smiling nervously. “Well, yeah. I mean, if I’m going to be helping out a pro hero like Aizawa, I should at least be able to take care of myself - he shouldn’t have to be looking out for me the whole time.” With Aizawa’s permission, she had told her friend about the situation at hand and the necessity of brushing up on her skills.    
  
“Hold on, I thought you were just researching for him? Why do you need to know how to fight?”   
  
“I _ am _ researching, but this is just in case something happens. Even if I wasn’t a part of the operation, it stands to reason that since I’m working at the place on the top of every villain in Japan’s hitlist I should at least be at a reasonable level of combat ability.” She’d been thinking about enlisting Kal’s help long before the incident at the rehab facility, but having to get pulled out of harm’s way by someone who had better things to do than look after a clumsy civilian had put the final nail in the coffin.

 

“Besides,” she continued, “it’s not as if I’m a total rookie - I was in the top five for combat in our class, remember?”

 

A smirk began to form on Kalri’s face, and Akane knew she’d been won over.

  
“Well, I guess I could give you a  _ few _ pointers, Miss ‘I-got-saved-by-my-crush-and-now-I’m-embarrassed’”   
  
Heat rushed to her cheeks at the jest, though she turned her head away from her friend and made a beeline for the sparring mat, getting into a defensive stance.    
  
“Shut up and hit me!”

 

“Gladly.” 

 

The first hit came flying so fast she didn’t realise it had been thrown, knocking her square in the stomach. For such a small girl, the ex-vigilante could pack a punch.    
  
“Jesus, Kal! I said ‘hit me’, not ‘rupture my internal organs!’” she sputtered, doubled over in shock. Above her, Kageyama shrugged. 

  
“You gave the signal. Not my fault if you weren’t ready. C’mon, let’s go again.” She shrugged, offering a hand. Akane gave a grateful smile, reaching up to take it.

  
In an instant, she had whirled her body around and pulled Kal into her from behind, throwing her opponent off-balance. Her other hand now firmly gripping Kal’s upper arm, she straightened her bent knees and  _ pushed  _ upwards _ , _ pulling her friend’s arm as she did so, sending her tumbling over her shoulder to the floor. 

 

Back to the mat, Kal lay dazed and blinking for a second, before breaking into whooping cheer - 

  
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the audience, she’s still got it!”    
  
Her excitement was infectious, and Kuro found that the flush on her face was from pride as much as exertion.    
  
Over the course of an hour or so, the matches went on and on, ranging from speed attacks to straight-up grappling. More often than not, Kal would be the victor, but even so Kuro could feel her old reflexes coming back; her attacks became well-timed and co-ordinated, and dodging Kal’s swift movements was getting easier as she worked muscles that hadn’t been used in years.    
  
After a particularly vicious round, the both of them were leaning against their knees, nursing their various injuries when her friend spoke up suddenly.   
  
“You know you can use your quirk on me, right? I’m not going to get scared by it, but it’s still effective on a physical level. It would make fighting at long range a lot easier.”   
  
What she was saying was true, but Kuro shook her head, wiping at her bloody nose with the back of her hand.   
  
“I’m not using my quirk. It’s too unpredictable, and if I lose control…” she trailed off, fully aware that Kal knew exactly what she was afraid of. If it had been anyone else, she might have expected a lecture, or even a pep-talk about ‘not letting your quirk control you’, all things she had experienced in the past. But she knew Kal better than that - her friend was one of the only people who had wholeheartedly accepted Kuro’s reluctance to deploy her abilities. 

 

Instead, she just nodded.    
  
“Alright. Well in that case, you and I are on the same footing - my quirk’s only useful if I get hurt. Which means that if you’re going up against someone with an attack quirk,” a toothy grin crept onto her face, mischief flashing behind her eyes, “you’re going to have to learn to fight dirty.”

 

It turned out that fighting dirty was fairly close to what she’d been doing anyway. Apparently the couple years of distance between her and the ‘rules’ of combat meant that she’d been working mainly on instinct, a lot of which would have gotten her the label of ‘dishonourable’ if she’d chosen to pursue a career as a pro. Speaking of which…

 

“Hey, you know that if you decide to use this in real life, you’re technically a vigilante seeing as you haven’t gotten your license renewed?” Kal panted out between blows, her grin obscured by the blood dripping from her split top lip.    
  
“In that case,” Kuro responded, landing a snap kick to the lower stomach, “what advice would you, in all your illegal wisdom, give to a newbie rogue hero such as myself?” 

 

Her friend snorted, moving out of the way of a low right-hook and releasing her own flurry of punches. “Pro tip? Get to know the guys living on the street - they see everything, and they look after their own. You make friends with them and you’ve got eyes everywhere.”    
  
It was hard to think in between attacks, but an idea was starting to form in Kuro’s mind. “That gives me a thought - look out!” she cried, pointing over her shoulder. On instinct, Kal’s head whipped around and she took her shot, launching herself bodily into the smaller woman and pushing her to the floor.    
  
“Hey!” Kal pouted, “That was low, even for me!”

 

She shrugged. “Sorry. I needed to think.” The grip she had on her friend was released, and she stood up.    
  
“You said that you’ve got contacts on the street, right?”   
  
“Uh, yeah. Why?”   
  
Akane looked at her, eyes lighting up as her plan began to take hold. “Well, whoever’s taking the kids is working within a specific area - the old industrial district - to pick them up. D’you think if you asked around you could get them to look out for any kids acting weird, or even someone going by ‘Mother’?” 

 

Kal thought for a moment, propping herself up on one elbow. “Yeah, I probably could - if it’s as obvious as you’re making it sound they’ll definitely have noticed something. You gonna talk to Aizawa about it?” 

 

Eraserhead would be okay with it, she was sure. It made sense to have people on the lookout - if they got lucky they might even find out who exactly ‘Mother’ was.    
  
“I’ll ask him when I see him next - it’s a sensible plan so he’s bound to agree.”   
  
Kal snorted. “Honestly, you could probably ask him to throw his wallet out the window of a moving car and he’d still say yes.”   
  
If she wasn’t so flushed from exercise, her blush would have been obvious for anyone to see. “Wha-- what are you talking about?”   
  
From the ground she could see the brunette rolling her eyes so hard it looked like they might be permanently stuck at the back of her head. “Oh come on, it’s fucking obvious! Kuro, he’s got a thing for you.”    
  
Oh god, not Kal too! The students were bad enough, but now her best friend was jumping in the ‘let’s embarrass Akane’ boat? Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid looking her in the face and giving herself away.   
  
“I-- what the hell?! Why is everyone bringing this up?! It’s getting ridiculous!” She sputtered, running her hands through her hair nervously. She knew by now that she definitely had a crush on Aizawa, but did people have to constantly rub it in her face? It was never going to happen.    
  
“Because it’s true, dumbass!” Kal retorted, putting her hands behind her head as she lay back down on the floor, “Watching you two eye-fuck during lunch is getting old  _ really _ fast.”   
  
“ **Kal!!** I’m not- we are not-- we’re not-” she struggled to get the words out, “We aren’t doing  _ that! _ ”   
  
Kal’s face split into a triumphant grin. “So you admit it! You  _ do _ like him!”

  
God, this was fucking impossible!    
  
“I never said that! And even if I did, would it matter? It’s not as if I’ve got a chance.” It was meant as an offhand comment, but it somehow managed to cut to the core of her insecurity, and judging by the look on her face, Kal had realised it too.

  
Her brows were knitted together with a frown that might easily have been mistaken for anger, and even knowing it was simply concern, Kuro flinched at the severity of her tone when she snapped at her.   
  
“Kuramoto Akane, that is the fucking  _ dumbest _ thing I have ever heard. Ooh, _ ‘It’s not as if I’ve got a chance’ _ \- bitch, have you _ seen _ yourself?! You’re insanely smart, funny, and have an incredible rack! What’s not to fall in love with?” Despite the colourful language and aggressive delivery, Kal was surprisingly good at pep talks. But even then…

“Alright, supposing that’s true--”   
  
“It is.”   
  
“Okay, but who says that has anything to do with whether Aizawa likes me back? For all I know, he could have a thing for someone else.”   
  
A scoff of contempt came from beside her. “Bullshit. You probably haven’t noticed because you’re so absorbed in your little bubble of irrational self-loathing, but he’s fucking whipped for you, babe. He actually  _ smiles _ around you! And it’s not sadistic!”   
  
If there was a world record for ‘longest time spent internally screaming’, Akane was pretty sure she’d broken it several times over by now. If this went on any longer, there was a good chance she’d end up making the transition to external screaming.    
  
“Whatever, Kal. It’s getting late and I need to at least try and sleep.” She said, rising from the mat with a soft groan. “Same time tomorrow?”   
  
Her friend rose with a bounce, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not getting out of this conversation that easily. Make a move, or I’ll do it for you.”   
  


“You wouldn’t dare.”

  
  
“Try me, bitch.”


	27. Chapter 27

 

Peeling paint and faded murals of flowers and anatomically incorrect animals stared at Aizawa with unseeing eyes as he paced through the desolate complex, trying to tamp down his frustration.

 

_ “You’re being unreasonable, Aizawa! I should be going with you, just in case.” Anger flared behind Kuramoto’s large brown eyes, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared up at him. Despite being at least six inches shorter than him and about as threatening as a newborn kitten, she was refusing to back down from the staring contest they had unintentionally initiated.  _ __  
_  
_ __ “It’s not unreasonable to say you shouldn’t be going into a potentially dangerous situation with such limited training.” Logically, he understood that it would be a good idea to bring in backup, but with the information Kal had given them, the threat level was as of yet undetermined and if something were to happen, it would put her in danger. The odds were low; it was likely just a recon mission to check out an abandoned daycare Kal had mentioned being home to some odd behaviour, but even just the thought of being responsible for her injury was enough to put a shard of ice through his heart. 

 

_ An exasperated huff left her lips, scowl intensifying. “Don’t forget that it’s because of me we even know about this place - and I’ve been training with Kal, probably even harder than I did in school!”  _

 

_ It was getting hard to focus on the argument they were having - he’d only seen her angry once before, but it had the same effect on him now as it did back in the empty diner, and it was becoming increasingly difficult not to take action on what his subconscious was telling him to do.  _ __  
_  
_ __ “You’re not going, Kuramoto. You did what I asked you to; don’t overestimate your role in this.”

 

_ Stupid. God, he was stupid. Why did he say that? The look of hurt on her face when the words escaped damn near broke him. He’d wanted to apologise; to tell her he hadn’t meant it, and that he wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. That he needed her. Instead, he had shut the door behind him.  _

 

Even now, searching the dilapidated playrooms and kitchens of the condemned childcare centre, his mind was replaying the scene over and over again in not-so-glorious technicolour. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so distracted on the job; maybe if he’d been more aware of his surroundings it wouldn’t have taken him so long to hear the soft whimpering coming from the floor above, muffled but still audible. Someone was up there, and by the sound of things, they were none too happy about it. 

 

Floorboards creaked even under his soft footfalls, but he heard no movement signalling if it’d been noticed or not. Turning a corner, he rounded into what must once have been the infant room, judging by the various wire-frame cots scattered throughout. Through the tinted lenses of his goggles he looked around carefully, searching for either potential danger or the source of the noise. The latter proved rather easy to locate. At the far end of the room was a cot that appeared to have been drilled into the wall, making it hold stronger than the others. What was of more interest, however, was the crumpled figure slouched beside it with one arm tied to the post. He took a few steps forward, aiming for a better look. 

 

At arm’s length, he could see that it was a reptilian girl in what looked to be her early teens. Her pulse was present, albeit faint, but she was out cold. Taking a knife from his belt, he began to work on the bindings. The fabric gave way easily, and he realised that the tie had been made with old bed-sheets rather than rope of any sort. The sound of ripping cotton and empty wind rattled through the building, along with… something else. A soft hissing noise reached his ears and he straightened up, only to be knocked backwards with a force that sent him stumbling.    
  
In the split second it took for him to regain his bearings, another blow landed where his head would have been only milliseconds earlier. Pulverised plaster rained down around him, and for the first time he finally got a good look at his opponent. It was a man, or more accurately, something shaped like a man. It’s body seemed to constrict and move like clay on a wheel, and he was only just fast enough to duck and roll again when another fist shot towards him and instead flattening against the wall, proving that clay was a far more suitable analogy than he originally thought.  Quickly taking in his surroundings, he noticed a divot in the wall. Perfect. The capture weapon propelling him upwards, he used the notch in the brick to push himself back down, landing a kick straight to the creature’s jaw, the malleable substance leaving the distinct imprint of his boot on its face. The thing stumbled backwards, but regained its footing quickly. 

 

It was clear he couldn’t beat it with strength alone - he needed to be smart about this. 

 

Glancing away from another supernaturally strong blow, he shot the capture weapon out to bind itself around the golem’s wrist only to find that instead of stopping at the correct tightness like it should have, the carbon-fibre creation cut through the ‘flesh’ altogether, severing limb from body.   
  
Seems he’d found his strategy. 

 

A moment later, he was swerving around the creature, who was stumbling this way and that, trying to land a hit. All the while, his plan was falling into place around them, the bandage-like apparatus around his neck moving to loosely encircle the various extremities of the mass. When he was satisfied, all it took was a hard tug at either end of the rope and the thing fell apart like a well-loved ragdoll, immediately losing shape and leaving him panting above it.    
  
Eyes darted around, searching for whatever had sent that thing after him. From the corner of his vision, a small figure ducked behind something and he was about to pursue it, until he heard something behind him, that same distant hissing as before. He turned around.   
  
Oh, for _ fuck’s sake. _

 

Six. There were six of them, now. All just as large and seemingly just as strong as the first.    
  
Dodge, dodge,  _ duck.  _ No point trying to land a hit. Somewhere along the line, the goal had changed from ‘find the instigator’, to ‘ _ survive _ .’  And that was proving more difficult than he would have liked. Whenever he brought down one, it seemed like another two took its place.  _ Dodge, duck, dodge, roll.  _ He was starting to tire. Blood pounded in his ears as one of the monstrosities rounded on him yet again. Not enough room to move. All he could do was duck, and hope for the best. Sliding his body down, he forced his eyes from closing, waiting for the impact either above him or on him. 

 

It never came. 

 

Instead, he saw earthen knees hit the floor in front of him, lurching to the side. Its head fell next, landing with a dull splat on the wood floor. And standing above it…

 

Behind round glasses and a black surgeon’s mask, Kuramoto was holding a loose metal rung from one of the cribs in her hands like a baseball bat, her chest heaving.

 

“You shouldn’t be here…” he croaked, even if it was an empty admonishment.

 

She rolled her eyes. “You can chew me out later - we need to fucking _ move!”  _  The imperative in her voice had his stomach doing flips, but his legs seemed to move of their own accord, pulling him back into the fray.    
  
Newly energised, the fight returned to him as if he’d been born into it. Clay creation went down one by one, even when replaced. They were starting to become weaker, but only barely. Every so often, his vision grazed over the woman fighting beside him. 

 

All sharp movements and hard edges, she fought with an intensity that was almost feral. The metal rod had been discarded in favour of a scrap of loose fabric, twisted into a makeshift garrott. Moving at breakneck speed, he could see her teeth bared in a snarl beneath the mask as she tore rather than cut off the head of her target. His own body felt as if it was on autopilot, calculating movements and attacks while his mind was trained solely on her. 

 

The creatures were noticeably weaker now, their attacks becoming sloppy and unfocused. There were only three left, the spawning of new ones seemingly abandoned. The capture weapon sprung from his neck, slicing through the neck of the nearest one to him like butter.    
  
One down, two to go.

 

Actually, two down, one to go. Kuramoto had taken care of the one going after her with a full-strength roundhouse kick, sending the thing’s head flying in an impressive arc across the room. Something metal flashed against her hand and- were those  _ brass knuckles?! _  He met her gaze, and could’ve sworn he saw her smile underneath the black scrap of fabric.

 

The final creature began lumbering towards him, and he prepared to launch another attack. The thing reeled back to power up a punch, and then-- 

 

Nothing. 

 

Nothing but a small pile of wet mud where the thing had once been standing. It was clear what had happened - whoever had been creating them had left the area, therefore deactivating their quirk. No point going after them.    
  
A few feet away from him, Kuramoto seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Without the obstruction of failed art projects gone murderous, he could see her clearly. Her hair was in disarray, falling in her face and eyes, and a light sheen of sweat lay across her body, trailing down towards the dip in her black tank top, rising and falling in time with her breath. He mentally chastised himself for staring. 

 

_ You’re meant to be angry with her, remember? _

 

And he  _ was  _ angry, to say the least.    
  
“What the hell was that?” He hissed, ripping off his goggles and making his way towards her. He needed to look her in the eyes for this.   
  
“You said I couldn’t go with you - you never said anything about going in  _ after  _ you.” She drew herself up to her full height. “I wouldn’t have interfered if you hadn’t needed help. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

 

Shouta was starting to see why she and Kal were friends - neither of them knew how to back down. “ _ That’s not the point, _ ” he growled, “You could have been hurt - hell, you could have been killed!”    
  
“ _ So could have you!”  _ She spat back.   
  
“I’m a hero, that’s my job! You can’t expect me to be okay with you putting yourself in danger - you can’t do that! Not for me.” 

 

“And  _ you _ can’t expect  _ me  _ to be alright sitting on the sidelines while you go in alone! I told you before; if I can help, I’m going to help. Even if you don’t want me to.” 

 

They stood still as stone, neither willing to turn away and concede. He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Short of physically restraining her (and he was  _ not _ pursuing that train of thought,) he wouldn’t be able to stop her - the hard set of her lips made that clear enough, and she could fight like a demon. 

 

He sighed in resignation. “You’re going to need a proper suit. Something like that,” he gestured to her current ensemble, “might be alright for training and blunt impact, but it’s got no protection against piercing or elemental attacks.”   
  
It was as if someone had flipped a switch in her brain, putting away the self-assured and deadly woman who’d been standing in front of him seconds before, and bringing back the sweet, excitable one that was her everyday persona. He knew better, though. Both sides were symbiotic with each other - neither was totally gone when the other was on show. There was softness in her steel, and iron in her kindness. 

 

The grin on her face was practically luminous, and had the corner of his mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly (along with other parts of him he would have preferred to ignore).    
  


“Seriously? It’s okay?”   
  
“I can’t stop you. Might as well make sure you don’t get yourself killed doing it.”

A delighted laugh rang from her lips. “You’re the best, Aizawa! Thank you!”   
  
“You can call me Shouta, if you want. You saved my ass, I think you’ve earned it.”   
  
  
She stared in confusion for a split second before laughing again. “You made a joke! Kal said you weren’t capable of it!”  
  
  
A smirk played across his face. “Kal’s absence happens to be a requirement for it to occur.”    
  
He was starting to realise how much he liked making her laugh.    
  
“Alright, I’ll call you Shouta,”  _ God,  _ his name sounded good falling from her lips, “ _ but _ ,” she returned his smirk, “only if you call me Akane. Or Kuro. The whole ‘Kuramoto’ thing is a bit too formal now, I think.” 

  
“Akane,” he repeated slowly, tasting the name on his tongue. “It suits you, you know?”   
  
The blush on her face was annoyingly adorable. “Oh! Thanks, I guess. I--”   
  
Her sentence was cut off by a weak cough from behind them. It seemed that the unconscious captive was starting to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuro the secret BAMF was too good to resist I'm so sorry


	28. Chapter 28

Akane’s body had moved before her mind could stop it. Not that it would have. She’d tried to do what Aizawa had told her to, she really had. Just not very hard. And in all honesty, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Had it been impulsive? Yes. Had it disobeyed a direct order? Absolutely. Would she have done it again? In an instant.

 

Even when he was towering over her, anger almost radiating off of him, she didn’t feel anything but absolute conviction that she’d done the right thing. She wouldn’t admit it - would never admit it - but the fear that had gripped her when she saw the hero pinned against the wall from her vantage point by the window had been stronger than anything she’d felt in a long,  _ long _ time. 

 

_ “You can’t expect me to be okay with you putting yourself in danger - you can’t do that! Not for me.”  _

 

Didn’t he understand that she felt exactly the same about him? That that was exactly why she’d done it?    
  
But she couldn’t complain - in fact, she felt like doing the exact opposite. He wanted her to be safe. He’d allowed her to keep helping. _ He’d asked her to call him by his first name.  _ Out of everything, that was somehow the one she was happiest about. It meant he trusted her; that he was comfortable enough around her to drop the honorifics. The thought had her heart soaring.    
  
_ Focus, _ she reminded herself,  _ you’ve still got a job to do.  _

 

Right now, that job was to figure out what the hell had just happened, and what the girl tied to the cot had to do with it. Now that she was awake, the panic was starting to set in. Pulling the surgical mask off her face and stepping forward, she crouched down to get at eye level. The child drew back with a shudder, fear evident on her scaled features.    
  
“Hey, it’s okay. We aren’t here to hurt you,” she knew it sounded cliche, but what else was she meant to say? The whole ‘saving people’ thing was still new to her. “I’m Kuro - what’s your name?” The question was ventured in a soft voice, being careful not to make any threatening movements. 

 

For a moment the child was silent, forked tongue flicking up and down anxiously. Finally, she replied with a soft hiss, “Sssuki… Sssakamoto Suki…”    
  
“Alright, Suki, we’re gonna get you home. But we need you to tell us what happened, ‘kay?”

 

The child seemed to retreat further into herself, hugging her knees close to her chest. “I don’t… I don’t know if I remember.”    
  
Kuro was going to move to reassure her when  ~~Aizawa’s~~   _ Shouta’s  _ voice cut through the silence.    
  
“You’re going to have to. We can’t find who did it if you don’t.”

 

For a moment she considered scolding him for his bluntness, but when she looked at Suki there was a resolution in her eyes that said he had gotten through to her.    
  
“I got into a fight at  _ ss _ school. My fangs, they make venom and I bit  _ ss _ someone on accident. Ssso I ran, and a lady in a mask came up from behind me and- and asked if I was alright… I- I don’t remember what happened, but I woke up here… She was sssitting in front of me, and sstarted telling me all these things…”

 

“What kind of things?”

 

“I don’t remember, exactly. But I think she sssaid something about taking me to meet my new siblings… And she- she knew thingss about me. My name, how I’m in- in foster care… like she’d been following me.”

 

Kuro began to chew on her bottom lip, thinking. She was sure that this was the work of the mysterious ‘Mother’, but she needed to be certain.    
  
“Suki, do you remember what the woman called herself?”   
  
The kid nodded, dark green hair falling over her face. “Yeah, yeah I think I do. _ Mother. _ She kept talking about hersself like she wassn’t there…” 

 

Finally, they had a smoking gun. She exchanged a look with the man behind her, nodding slightly.    
  
“The mask, what did it look like?” He asked, moving to crouch beside Akane. In the soft light of streetlamps outside, he looked almost otherworldly. The line of his stubbled jaw was shadow against the pale glow, and she couldn’t help remembering what it felt to run her fingers along it, recalling the slight roughness under the pad of her thumb. God, she wanted to do it again. She wanted to commit every scar and scratch to memory. She wanted to--

 

“Yeah, like thisss.” her thoughts were interrupted by Suki pushing something along the floor towards them. “I punched her, and broke that off… I don’t remember anything else until now.”

Kuro picked up the fragment, and holding it to the light, inspected it closer. It was part of a porcelain mask, red lips and painted pink cheeks chipped at the corners, ending just below the eye on the right side. Intricate patterns of gold and red swirls were streaked across the expanse of snow-white plaster.    
  
“Shouta, I recognise this. It’s a Venetian Carnival mask - and it’s genuine, if the craftsmanship is anything to go by. Look at the pattern; that’s gotta be hand-painted. I’ve got something like it at home from a trip I took when I graduated, but no two authentic masks are the same.”   
  
He leaned in closer, his hand brushing against her own as he took in the fragment’s features for himself. “So then, whoever owns it must have been to Italy before, or know someone who has.”    
  
“Yup. I’m, uh, not sure if that’s helpful at all, but…”   
  
“Doesn’t matter. If you’re right about it being one-of-a-kind, then we’ve got a distinct way of identifying her.  _ That’s _ definitely helpful.”   
  
She should not have been blushing as hard as she was. “Oh! That’s- that’s good, then!”   
  
“We should get Kageyama to look into it, see if she’s been noticed wearing the mask elsewhere.” He looked unfairly attractive when he was thinking, and it was getting to the point where Kuro needed to find something else to look at.   
  
“Good idea. But we should get Suki home first - it’s probably not a good idea to let her go back alone, just in case.”

  
  


Dropping the teenager off proved to be pretty straightforward - her foster mother had cried tears of relief at her arrival, and even if he didn’t show it, Akane could tell that Aizawa was glad she had someone worried about her. So was she, for that matter. 

 

Walking back together, she felt that she couldn’t let them part ways without addressing something that had been gnawing at her since he’d said it.    
  
“Shouta.”

 

He stiffened slightly at the sound of his name, but let out a small ‘hmm?’ to let her know he was listening.    
  
In her mind, the words played out like a scene from a Hollywood Golden Age film. There was no stuttering, no awkward eye contact, and she stood proud and tall.

 

_ You said I shouldn’t have risked getting hurt for you. Not that I shouldn’t have risked going in; that I shouldn’t have risked it for  _ _ you _ _. Do you really think I should have let you go in alone? I couldn’t do that, Shouta. Not when it’s you. _

 

But no matter how much she wanted to, they wouldn’t come out. Instead, all she could say was,

 

“Thank you. For putting up with me, I mean. I know I’m, um, not exactly the ideal partner; I’m not licensed and I’m impulsive and kind of a crybaby and I just-” she sighed, pushing her hair back nervously. “I wanted to let you know I appreciate it. If the police were taking this seriously, you’d probably have someone who actually knew what they were doing and could take care of themself. They’d be a much better resource than me - but you’ve been… really good about it. About me.”

 

He stared at her for a moment, and she was suddenly terrified she’d made a mistake (to be fair, she was usually worried about that anyway). Then his eyes left her, seemingly focused on something in the distance.

 

“Maybe. But I probably still would have chosen you,” he said, and her eyes widened in disbelief. What did he mean by that?   
  
“You’re better at this than you think you are, Akane.” 

 

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she thank him? Should she act as if it was no big deal? Should she _kiss_ him? God, she wanted to kiss him.

 

She hadn’t realised that she had yet to respond until he spoke again, saying, “It’s late. You should get inside.”   
  
“O-oh,” she stuttered, “yeah, you’re right. I, uh…” 

 

The next thing she realised, she had her arms wrapped around his middle, hugging him tightly. He smelled like freshly washed clothes and sleepy Sunday mornings. 

 

What was she doing?!

 

Pulling away quickly, she began to skitter up the steps to her building’s entrance, leaving him staring at her in what was as close to astonishment as he could probably get.    
  
“S-Sorry. I just…” she pressed her lips together tightly, worrying at the hem of her shirt. “Stay safe, okay? See you tomorrow, Shouta.” 

  
Not waiting for a response, she hastily slammed the door behind her, disappearing up the flight of steps leading to her flat and practically screaming at herself the entire way.   
_  
_ _ What the fuck have I just done?! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants a visual for how I imagine Mother's mask looks: https://goo.gl/images/55KMoZ


	29. Chapter 29

_ What the hell just happened? _

 

Aizawa stood outside the door to the complex for a solid five minutes, his brain not entirely processing the events that had just unfolded. Only moments ago, he’d had Kuro’s arms around him so close he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own - and then she’d run into her apartment so fast she was practically a blur, leaving him reeling.     
  
What had she meant by her actions? In the moments leading up to it, she’d seemed so unsure of herself and, not for the first time, he had gotten an inkling of the kind of thoughts that occured in her head. It had broken his heart slightly to see how lowly she thought of herself. Couldn’t she see how much help she had been? The hug had been impulse, he was sure of that, but that didn’t stop him from wishing it had been more. 

 

What would have happened if he  _ had  _ asked for more? He still had the chance to do so, he supposed. Knock on her door, and when she opened it, press his lips to hers like he’d wanted to do for weeks now. The thought was insanely tempting, but it was also just plain insane. So, instead of following up on what every nerve in his body was telling him to do, he trudged home, trying not to think of the way she had smiled like he’d given her the moon when he called her by her first name, or the smell of chocolate and morning sunlight on messy sheets that had hit him when she had her arms around him. It was going to be a long, lonely night.   
  
A week later, he came back one morning from a coffee run to a commotion in the staffroom, the muffled buzz if excited voices travelling down the linoleum tiled hallway leading to the offices. Stepping through the open doorway, he saw at least five of his coworkers clustered around something - no, some _ one _ else. Hizashi, sandwiched between Midnight and Ectoplasm, noticed his arrival and waved him over frantically, yelling,   
  
“ERASER! CHECK IT OUT, KURAMOTO GOT A COSTUME!”

 

So she’d taken his advice? Thank God, he wasn’t sure how he would have handled seeing her in a tank-top and leggings every time they were working together. They hadn’t mentioned how that night had ended, and instead she seemed to act as if nothing at all was going on.  Unfortunately, any hope of having an easier time focusing on other things were quickly dashed the moment he caught sight of the outfit itself.

 

Oh,  _ Jesus Christ.  _

 

The immediate thing that grabbed his attention were the windows. Covered by a transparent red film, the outfit had two cut-outs around her stomach and clavicle, ending just below the curve of her cleavage. Conforming snugly to the outline of her body, the suit was mostly black and made from a material he recognised as the creation of Hatsume Mei from the Support classes. At the edges of the suit and around the windows was a deep red lining that looked almost metallic, also being used at her elbows and knees. A belt holding various gadgets that he recognised and some that he didn’t hung from around her waist, slanted slightly to the right of her hip. In all, she looked incredibly and distractingly hot. 

 

Trying to ignore the blood pounding in his ears and elsewhere in his body, Shouta took a step forward and looked Akane over with an expression he seriously hoped didn’t give away his true feelings about the outfit.    
  
“It looks good,” he finally managed, although he and everyone else in the room knew that was the biggest understatement he’d ever made. “Have you had the chance to try it out?”

 

She shook her head, sending her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Not since the redesign - it’s based off of the one I had in school, but Hatsume from the support classes has added a couple of upgrades that I’m hoping to test this afternoon.”    
  
On second thought, things could be a lot worse. If he had seen her in that when he was a teenager, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d have been able to function properly for a week. He was sure the bare skin served a purpose other than being incredibly distracting, but he was having trouble focusing on anything else. Midnight seemed to be thinking the same thing, piping up beside him,   
  
“Kuro, I just have to ask - what was the thought process behind all those lovely windows? Don’t get me wrong, they look delicious, but I never pegged you as the type to show it off, no matter how  _ enticing _ ~” Nearing the end of her statement, she shot a sly glance at him and flashed a subtle wink, much to his chagrin. 

 

A blush that almost matched the accents of her costume rose to Kuro’s cheeks.   
  
“Well, it’s more practical than anything - my quirk is most useful along my sternum and stomach seeing as that’s where the largest eyes appear. It seemed practical to leave those areas uncovered - the clear covering over them actually magnifies their range and power!”   
  
At her explanation, Kal slung her arm over Akane’s shoulder, a grin on her face. “It wasn’t always so well filled, though~ Kuro was flat as a board till we turned seventeen! Her old suit doesn’t fit anymore, so adjustments had to be made!”

 

“Kal!!” The woman in question shoved her friend playfully, the redness across her face even deeper. “You promised not to talk about that! Anyway, that isn’t the only adjustment that got made!” She chirped, holding up one of her hands, which Aizawa realised was covered in a fingerless glove with a similar red cutout around the back of it. She made a fist, and suddenly there were four small claw-like blades protruding from where her knuckles dipped. From the look of them, they were deadly sharp. Holy shit.

  
“HOLY SHIT, KURO - YOU WENT  _ WOLVERINE _ ON US!?” Mic screeched, taking a slight step backwards along with all the other teachers gathered. Her laugh echoed through the room.    
  
“Only a little! It’s more like ‘small and angry cat’.” She grinned, and Mic turned to him with a mischievous grin. “One of the girls in support was super helpful in updating everything - so many great ideas, I’m sure we’ll see great things from her someday.”   
  
“A CAT, HUH? THAT’S RIGHT UP YOUR ALLEY, SHOUTA!! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF KURO-SAN’S COSTUME?”    
  
Not for the first time, Aizawa wondered why he was still friends with the voice hero. The instances where he was tempted to throw him out the window by his mohawk were getting more and more frequent these days. Now Akane was looking at him with a curious, hopeful expression. This just wasn’t fair anymore. From the flushed pink of her cheeks and the tugging of her teeth on her bottom lip to the pale skin lying near-exposed on her chest and stomach, it was getting harder and _ harder _ to think properly.    
  
“Yeah, uh… looks fine. Practical.” He muttered, his gaze drifting lower - the intended destination of his stare was his own shoes, but something on the flat of her stomach caught his attention - thin black lines of ink peeked out from the bottom right corner just above her hip, seemingly in a geometric pattern although he couldn’t make it out properly.    
  
_ She’s got a fucking tattoo?! _

 

Well, it was time to leave. Shifting back from the crowd of people, he began to make his way towards the door with a pace that would have left a speedster in the dust. “I’ve got to go. Forgot to mark some papers last night.”    
  
From behind him, he heard a snort of laughter from both Hizashi and Kageyama, although nobody else seemed to have noticed. Shooting a last glare their way and a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile Kuro’s, he began the much longer than he remembered walk to his as-of-yet unoccupied class. Once the door was closed, he let out a long groan both of frustration and something else he was trying desperately not to focus on - in a few minutes he’d have to deal with the hoard of tiny menaces he called a class, and the last thing he needed was any of those brats asking what he was so worked up about.

 

Thank god for baggy trousers.

 

Just as he was beginning to calm down, he felt his phone vibrate in his side pocket. Pulling out the device, his home screen alerted him of an image SMS sent by Mic. Upon opening the message, the picture showed a blurred photograph of a chicken running away from something, with the caption ‘gtg gtg gtg’ repeated several times underneath it.

 

A few seconds later, another text appeared:   
  
[MUSICAL MENACE (YAMADA)]: u, running away from your feelings

  
[MUSICAL MENACE (YAMADA)]: and ur boner

 

For about the third time in as many minutes, he groaned. Defenestration was starting to look like a very good option right about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you guys tell I've been reading way too many comic books


	30. Chapter 30

 

To say Akane was excited to test out her new suit would have been a gross understatement. There hadn’t been a lot that she enjoyed about training to be a hero, but the specialised outfits were one of the only redeeming features. The sense of power, of control over herself that she got when she put her costume on was something that she hadn’t even realised she’d missed. 

 

The thing fit like a second skin, and looking in the mirror, she saw someone she almost didn’t recognise staring back at her. Self-assured and undaunted, stepping into the close-fitting fabric was like walking into another life. Kal had promised to train with her that afternoon so that she could properly evaluate her suit’s capabilities and the additional tools on her belt, and she had to stop herself skipping to the gym when the day was over, anxious to try everything. But when she stepped into the area, it was clearly empty. That was strange; Kal was usually the first of them to arrive.    
  
Just as she was preparing to call her friend and ask what was going on, a text from the woman herself popped up on her phone. 

 

[WHY DO I STILL ANSWER THIS ONE?]: hey somethings come up and i cant make it

 

A sigh of disappointment escaped her. Of course Kal would be busy; it was too much to ask the universe for a day where everything went her way.    
  
[WHY DO I STILL ANSWER THIS ONE?]: but i got another teacher to cover for me so u can still train so dont leave yet k?

 

Well that was unexpected, but gratifying. Which of them had volunteered? This might be a blessing in disguise - it would do her good to train against different combat styles. Shooting off a quick text to thank her, Kuro leaned back against the wall and sank down onto the bench, swinging her legs slightly as she did so. 

 

Five minutes of waiting later, she heard footsteps coming down the hall towards her. Shooting up from her seat, she craned her neck to see who it was. Maybe Midnight had offered her services? She’d extended an invitation to Kuro last week, but with her hectic schedule she had been forced to decline. Despite their rather opposite personalities, she genuinely liked Kayama Nemuri; it was nice to see a woman so confident in her sexuality, and her sense of humour was surprisingly similar to her own. No, it wasn’t Nemuri - the footfalls were too heavy for her. In fact, they seemed quite familiar. The reason for that was quickly revealed, and her eyes widened.   
  
“Shouta?”   
  


_ Kal, you sly bastard. _

 

He seemed just as shocked as her, although far less obviously.    
  
“Akane? I… I didn’t know you were here. Kageyama said she needed help with training a student.”   
  
A nervous laugh fell from her lips. “Uh, I think that might be me. She was meant to help me try out my gear, but apparently she was busy and sent someone else… I guess she got you to do it.” There was no doubt in her mind that Kal had planned this - it was lucky her friend could resurrect herself, because Kuro was going to kill her the next time they saw each other. 

 

Shouta nodded awkwardly. “Right. That makes sense. You were going to test the new suit, yeah?”    
  
“Yep. Haven’t had the chance yet,” the discomfort in the room was palpable - mostly her fault, she supposed, “So… do you still want to do it? You don’t have to, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of stuff to do and if this is getting in the way of something I don’t mind if--”   
  
“No, it’s fine,” he interjected, adding hastily, “I’d like to see how you’ve improved. Besides, just going up against Kal isn’t going to teach you how to adapt to the situation.” 

 

“Oh, okay…” she muttered, moving onto the mat. “So, uh… how do you wanna do this?”   
  
He thought for a moment, stepping a few feet directly in front of her. “Just start simple - a sparring match might be a good idea to get the hang of the suit’s movement capacity. We can try out the tools you’ve got later on.” He muttered, taking an elastic band off his wrist and tying his long black hair out of his face.

 

_ Oh, God help me.  _

 

Such a simple action should not have been that attractive, and yet he somehow managed to make it quite possibly the hottest thing she had ever seen. She’d wondered not infrequently what he looked like with his hair tied up, but actually seeing it in person was something she was entirely unprepared for. Seemingly noticing her eyes on him, Shouta looked up, raising an eyebrow slightly.   
  
“O-Oh, yeah! Sounds good, I guess!” she managed to stutter out, biting at her lip. Was she imagining things, or was he staring at her mouth when she did it?   
  
“Alright then. Let’s start.”

 

They circled each other, arms raised in defensive positioning. Deciding to make the first move, she ventured out with a simple jab to his left side, though she wasn’t putting much power into it - with Kal, she would have given it all she had, but even though she knew logically that he would be fine, she couldn’t quite bring herself to put the same strength or speed behind it.    
  
Almost as soon as she had begun to make her attack, he had grabbed her wrist and pulled it downwards, darting behind her and effectively trapping her against his body with his free hand pushing down on her shoulder and limiting her movement. It was a small blessing that her back was turned to him, because otherwise the blush on her face would have been too obvious to ignore. She could feel his breath hot against her neck, and fought back a shiver as he spoke, sending small puffs of air against the already raised flesh.    
  
“You dipped your shoulder before you punched. It projects your movement - try and keep an eye on that.”  It might just have been the close proximity, but she was sure his voice sounded huskier than she remembered it. He straightened up, moving to face her.    
  
“Again.” 

 

This time, she began further away from him. Taking into consideration what he had said, she was able to keep up with him even at her slightly slowed pace - she was going easy on him, but it was better than the alternative of accidentally hurting him. Twisting slightly to dodge his right hook, she aimed a turning kick at his chest. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor with him staring down at her, capture weapon in hand. One end of the tool was wrapped around her upper thigh - he must have grabbed it and thrown her off-balance. Despite the situation, her mind couldn’t help but focus on the feeling of the rope-like apparatus squeezing against the soft flesh of her leg, digging slightly in a way that was by no means painful. It was altogether too distracting, and she almost didn’t hear him when he spoke from above her.

  
“You’re holding back. I’ve seen you fight before - you’re ten times faster than this, at least, and your attacks have almost no power behind them whatsoever,” he crouched down beside her, the weapon moving back around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  
Her shoulders raised in an embarrassed shrug. “I don’t really know. I guess with Kal it’s easier to let loose because I know that if I hurt her, she can regenerate. I don’t want to accidentally injure you, so…” she trailed off.   
  
Tired dark eyes looked at her, but there was a softness behind them that she was surprised to see. “If you don’t want to hurt me, then you won’t. But going easy just because it’s only practice is a great way to make sure you’re unprepared in a real fight - there’s just no point to it.” Oddly enough, his gruff reassurance was strangely convincing. He continued, “We’re meant to be protecting each other while we’re working together - if you can trust me not to let you get hurt, then I need you to trust me when I tell you that you aren’t doing either of us a favour by holding yourself back.” He stood back up, offering her a hand. If it had been Kal, she would have taken advantage of the kindness, but with him she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she allowed him to help her up, ignoring the thrill of electricity that ran up her spine when their hands met.   
  
Shouta strode back to the other end of the mat, offering her a totoro-grin and crooking his finger forward.     
  
“Again.”

 

This time, she didn’t hold back. Darting between the bandages of the capture weapon with speed she rarely used, her mind began to whir at top gear as she assessed what the best course of action was. Physically, he was far stronger than her and likely had more stamina so a prolonged engagement wasn’t a good idea - but there was a good chance she was faster in the short term, and if given the element of surprise…

 

She lunged, dropping her shoulder and slamming herself into him. He let out a grunt of surprise as they both toppled onto the floor, his arms pinned underneath her own. For a moment, the only noise to be heard was heavy breathing as both tried to regain their breath. A little too late, she realised she was essentially straddling him, his torso between her legs. She stared down at him, a steady flush beginning to flow to her face as it was doing more and more often these days. For Aizawa’s part, he seemed no less stunned than she was, his eyes wide with surprise. She was embarrassed to within an inch of her life, but much to her dismay, she realised that she was also insanely turned on. The discovery did nothing to dispel the heat on her face.   
  
“I… I guess I win, huh?” she muttered, sitting up. For a moment, she thought she felt something against her backside, but ignored it in favour of getting back onto her feet. Shouta was still staring at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Deciding to be a good sport, she offered her hand like he had done only moments before. Tentatively, he took it and allowed her to help him onto his feet.   
  
“Yeah. I guess you do,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. “You did well. Didn’t see it coming.”  His hair was disheveled and sticking out from it’s ponytail at odd angles, but even then Akane couldn’t help thinking it looked even hotter than it had before, and strangely familiar. It was then she realised with a jolt that he looked almost exactly like he had in a dream she had a few nights previous - although the situation had been far less innocent. 

 

“Do, um… Do you wanna go again? We could try out some of the gadgets.” She offered tentatively. A look of something akin to panic crossed his face for a second, so fast that Kuro thought she might have imagined it.    
  
“Actually, I think I left something… at home. That I need for patrol. I have to go.” He began to dust himself off, making a beeline for the exit, before pausing. “It was good, though… You were good.”

 

The door closed behind him, and Kuro stood for a few minutes, unsure of what had happened to make him leave so quickly. Silently, she pulled out her phone, and clicked on Kal’s number, seeing that there was a new message from the little shit.

 

[WHY DO I STILL ANSWER THIS ONE?]: hows it going?   
  
[AKANE KURAMOTO]: ……..  
  
[AKANE KURAMOTO]: Turn your location on, I just wanna talk.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, I would like to address the fact that this fic now has over a thousand hits???!!!! What the hell guys?! When I started this, I genuinely didn't think anyone except a few of my friends would read this, but there have been so many people leaving such lovely messages and encouraging me! I owe you guys so much; thank you for helping me bring Kuro to life!!!

Chiyoh was singing today. It wasn’t a song Akane knew, and for what it was worth it could easily have been something she had made up herself. But whatever was the inspiration behind it, she couldn’t stop herself smiling at the display of childhood innocence. With all the evidence she had of corrupted childhoods around the city, seeing a young girl who had been through so much in such a good mood was heartwarming. 

 

It had been several weeks since the events at the abandoned daycare, and even with Kal’s contacts, Shouta’s patrols and Kuro’s own research, there had been little activity detected and the paper trail seemed to have come to a dead end. Either ‘Mother’ was laying low and keeping her head down, or she’d caught on to them and had gotten far sneakier in her work. Kuro desperately hoped it was the first one. As frustrating as the sudden lack of information was, she couldn’t exactly say she was unhappy with the situation - the time she and Shouta would spend together had increased rather than slowed. It hadn’t taken her long to realise that even with the problem at hand, she genuinely enjoyed his company; there was no pressure to perform around him. No awkward small-talk. 

 

She hadn’t even realised that she was smiling at the thought until Chiyoh spoke up from her jigsaw puzzle on the floor.   
  
“Oh! Kuro-chan! Me and Daddy went to the park yesterday!”    
  
Akane tilted her head, smiling. She’d known that, of course; Fukuharu gave her a custody report once a week detailing Chiyoh’s interactions with either of her parents. But what she didn’t get was Chiyoh’s thoughts on them - those came directly from the source. 

 

“Oh? How was it?”

The raven-haired child jumped up in excitement, the bobbles in her pigtails bouncing against each other. “Great!! We went on the see-saw and the swings and he helped me fly a kite!” She chirped, making an exaggerated arm gesture to signify the activity. “I really like spending time with Daddy - he always makes tonkatsu when I’m there, and Kameko helped me with my drawings!”    
  
Kuro nodded, scribbling in her notes. “Kameko is your dad’s girlfriend, right? That’s good that you spend time with her. What’s she like?”   
  
“She’s really nice! She’s an artist and she says that one day she’ll take me to her studio to paint for real! Mommy and Dolly Lady don’t like her, though.”   
  
She couldn’t say she was surprised at the dislike Chiyoh’s mother held for her ex’s new partner. But who was Dolly Lady? 

 

“Oh!” The girl grinned happily, seeming to realise that Kuro had no idea who she was talking about, “Dolly Lady sits outside my window at night and talks to me! Mommy and Daddy don’t think she’s real, but she is!” 

 

So ‘Dolly Lady’ was an imaginary friend? That wasn’t surprising at all - it was very common for children with conflicted home lives and an isolated social circle to create friends for themselves. Usually, it was another child for them to play with, but other creatures weren’t unheard of. A soft smile played at her lips, “Oh? And what do you and Dolly Lady talk about?”   
  
“All sorts of things! She talks to me about Mommy and Daddy, and listens to me. She says that my quirk is a good thing!” The wide-eyed expression on her face portrayed the young girl’s wonder at having her power seen in a positive light as she continued, “she doesn’t like Mommy and Daddy though. She says that one day, she’ll take me to meet my new family! With other kids like me!”    
  
And just like that, Kuro’s heart seemed to drop out of her chest.    
  
She couldn’t let Chiyoh know that something was wrong - that would only serve to make matters worse. At any rate, she needed confirmation. She tried to keep her smile on her face, no matter how shaky it was at this point.

  
“I… I see. And um, what does ‘Dolly Lady’ look like?”   
  
Her patient seemed unaware of her anxiety, and answered her question as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I don’t think she has a face - she’s got a mask with pretty patterns on it. I can’t see her eyes, but sometimes I can see her mouth because her mask is broken.”

 

Suddenly, she was out of her seat and headed towards the office door, where Fukuharu was waiting outside. Her mind was screaming at her so loudly she could hardly think. Turning to Chiyoh, she barely managed to hide her worry behind a reassuring look. “Wait here, okay? I just need to talk to Fuku-chan about something really quickly.”

 

Bright green eyes looked up at her the moment she re-entered the living room, seeming to sense her urgency. “Kuramoto? What’s wrong?”   
  
“Fukuharu, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” her own dark brown eyes were wide with worry, and she could feel the tell-tale tugging of skin on her neck and hands signalling that her quirk was beginning to activate. No, no, no! She had to keep a lid on it. Needed to stay as calm as possible, explain the situation as best she could. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “someone is going to try and abduct Chiyoh. She calls herself Mother, and she’s been kidnapping children with unusual quirks, indoctrinating them into her so-called ‘family’. You need to tell her parents. They can’t let her out of their sight - keep the windows barred and locked at night. This is important. I- excuse me,” she was well aware that she was making very little sense. At this point, her words were barely any better than panicked ramblings. “I.. I need to make a call. I’ll be back in a second to brief you properly, but I need- I need to do this.”

 

Out on the balcony of her flat, she pressed the name now at the top of her recent calls. For a few agonising seconds, the line rang softly, and she began to worry that maybe he was busy, that he wouldn’t pick up. But the telltale click of the other line confirmed otherwise. A sigh of relief escaped her as the voice on the other end spoke, calming her ever-so-slightly.

  
“Kuro? What’s going on?” Aizawa seemed to have already picked up that something was wrong - probably her shaky exhales through the receiver.   
  
“Shouta,” she breathed, trying not to let her voice crack, 

 

“They’re after Chiyoh.”


	32. Chapter 32

He probably shouldn’t have been this happy to see her. It was a difficult situation that had everyone on edge, but even then Shouta couldn’t help the rise of his mood when he saw Akane making her way across the rooftop to the agreed vantage point where he was already positioned. She smiled when she saw him, her pace picking up and sending the plastic bag in her hand knocking against her leg. He still hadn’t gotten entirely used to her new costume, but at least now he could hold a conversation without needing to take a bathroom break.   


  
“Shouta! It’s good to see you,” she greeted, sitting down beside him and putting the bag on her lap, “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought us some popcorn. It’s from a convenience store, though, so I don’t know how good it is.” Her hands dipped into the plastic, pulling out a large packet of the snack. He stifled a small smile behind the capture weapon at the gesture; she was always doing stuff like that, every time they met up she had some kind of food with her for them to share despite his assurances that she shouldn’t feel obligated to do so.    


  
“Thanks,” he muttered, taking some of the airy kernels for himself, “You don’t have to come with me every time I come out to check on her, you know. You’re no good to anyone exhausted out of your mind.” Despite his gruff admonishment, he couldn’t deny to himself that he was glad she was with him.    


  
Akane rolled her eyes behind her glasses, a sardonic smile pulling at her lips. “We’ve been through this before - of course I do. Wherever you go, I go. Besides, do you think I’d be coming with you if there was a chance I could be sleeping? This whole thing is keeping me up, even more than I would be usually,” she told him. Fatigue was clear in the shadows beneath her eyes and the pallor of her skin as she leaned her elbows on her knees, supporting her head with her hands. While he couldn’t help looking at her, Kuro’s gaze was firmly fixed on the bedroom window of the ground-floor apartment below them where Chiyoh was sleeping soundly, watched over by the two of them. There was an intense determination to her fixation, as if she could keep the child from harm by the force of her stare alone. 

 

“You really care about her, don’t you?”   
  
She turned to him, a brow raised quizzically. “Who? Chiyoh?” her legs swung backwards and forwards slightly as she answered, “I care about all the kids I see. But… I’ll admit, she’s probably the one I think about the most, even before this,” she shrugged, continuing, “the kid’s been through a hell of a lot - her parents are divorcing, she’s having trouble controlling her quirk and fitting in at school… It’s kind of like looking in a mirror, I guess.”

 

At his confused expression, she dropped her gaze to the street below them, rubbing the back of her neck slightly, as if she were embarrassed to explain. “My parents got divorced when I was ten. It’s still kind of awkward to think about… I always felt like I needed to be totally self-sufficient, so that I wouldn’t be any more trouble for them. I don’t really talk to them anymore - I was always afraid that if I spent too much time around them, then I’d screw up somehow and they’d leave me alone. So I left first.”    
  
Her admission answered a question Shouta had been thinking about since he had first come to her house - why didn’t she have any photos of her family? He’d assumed the reason behind it would be upsetting, but the downcast turn of regret on her lovely features was heartrending in a totally new way. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her hair and promise he wouldn’t leave. That she couldn’t possibly screw up. Not to him. Suddenly, she seemed to snap out of her reverie, an embarrassed laugh replacing the sad intonations of earlier.    
  
“Sorry,” she pushed her hand through her hair, “I didn’t mean to unload all that on you - I haven’t talked about it in a while and I guess it all started tumbling out, but I promise I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me or--”

 

“It’s alright,” he muttered, “I’m… I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me. I know that kind of stuff is difficult to talk about.”    
  
Should he tell her? The only person he’d really spoken to about his father was Hizashi, and that was because they had known each other when it happened. But there was something in the way she had confided in him about something in her childhood that had made her who she was that had him wanting to do the same. He took a deep breath. 

 

“I know how it feels, needing to grow up quickly to make it easier on your parents,” well, he’d opened the door now, might as well give the whole story. “My father died when I was about seven. Probably murdered, but there was never enough evidence to convict anybody. After that, I kind of took on the role of taking care of my mom - as best I could, anyway. Guess that’s part of why I went Pro; I guess I hoped I might be able to stop something like that happening to someone else’s family.”    
  
She had swivelled around to face him now, her legs crossed on the ledge of the building. There was something in her gaze that had changed now that she was looking at him; it wasn’t pity, thank God - if there was one thing he hated, it was people feeling sorry for him. No, this was something more like… Understanding. Admiration, even. 

 

When she spoke, her voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible against the breeze. “That’s… That’s almost exactly the same reason I became a psychologist. I didn’t want another family going through what mine did without anyone to talk to,” she shrugged, “I guess if I had kids, I’d be doing the same; making sure they knew they were loved, supporting them… But I doubt I’m ever going to have a family, so this is the next best thing!” A weak laugh left Kuro’s lips, but the dejection hiding underneath was clear enough.     
  
“Why do you say that? Is it a biological thing?” he asked, though the minute the words came out he regretted them - she had no reason to answer that kind of question, and from the way she had said it, it was likely something far more personal than that.    
  
“What? Oh, no, not at all! I just… I’m not great with relationships. I want a family, but I don’t want to do it alone. And like I said, I tend push people away so that’s not very likely. I couldn’t raise a child on my own; I’d just end up screwing them up somehow. I couldn’t do that to a kid.” Nervous fingers twisted at blonde hair, tugging the strands wrapped around shaking digits. 

 

It was near uncanny, the way she’d managed to voice his exact fears regarding parenthood. His workload, his own childhood, so many things that clamoured in his head telling him that if he were a father, he’d somehow find infinite ways to destroy that child before they even had a chance at life. It seemed they were both terrified of what they wanted, but maybe between the two of them…

 

He cut off that train of thought in its tracks, though not before his mind’s eye caught a glimpse of messy blonde hair curled up warm against him between twisted sheets and streams of morning sunlight, a crib in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the first time he had fantasised about something like that, but in previous ideations it had always been some nameless figure taking the place of the second parent. Never someone he knew. Not someone sitting in front of him at that very moment. 

 

The words were coming from him before he realised he was saying them, “I think you’d be a great mother, Akane.”    


  
She looked up at him, something like shock written across her face. “I… Really? Why?”   
  


Her question seemed to open a floodgate in his mind, rushing with every little thing he admired about her, every tiny instance that made him think she’d rise to the challenge of parenthood with ease. It didn’t come out like that exactly, but the sentiment was still there. 

 

“How much you care about the kids you see, for one thing. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Even the ones you don’t talk with normally - my class adores you, and it’s hard to get them to agree on anything. You’re kind; probably the kindest person I know, but you stand up for things that you care about and aren’t afraid to speak your mind. Little things, too. You bring food for me even when I tell you it’s not needed. You bring extra jackets to school in winter just in case one of the kids forgets theirs. You need to understand, Kuro - that level of empathy, of selflessness, it’s pretty incredible.” He sounded like an idiot, he knew, but everything he was saying was true. 

 

It took him a moment to realise that his hand had moved to touch the side of her face, his thumb running across the cheekbone. The way her flushed, freckled skin moved against his own calloused hand seemed close to blasphemy - what was he doing, touching something so clearly beyond him? But she hadn’t moved away. She hadn’t moved at all. In fact, she seemed nearly as hypnotised by the movement as he was. He should stop now, pull his hand away. He couldn’t. Their bodies were close to each other - close enough that he could easily have leaned over and closed the gap between them, pulling her to him, tasting the echoes of candy and convenience-store popcorn on her tongue, finally getting to feel the lips that had tormented him for months. They seemed even closer now - as if they had both moved to shorten the distance.    
  
He could do it, if he wanted to - and he did want to. His resolve was starting to crumble against warm chocolate eyes. A hand on his own face, warm and welcome against the graze of his stubble, was the final blow. But in the space between the seconds when he would have given in, her voice hissed low and panicked against his ear.    
  
“Shouta-!”   
  
His hooded gaze snapped to attention, afraid that he had done something unforgivable only to find that her own line of sight was totally unfocused on him, instead directed to the building below them. A figure crept with their back against the wall, edging towards the window of Chiyoh’s bedroom. From above, their face was covered by a black hood. Until their vision shot upwards at the noise of Kuro’s sharp intake of breath.

  
Staring up at them with unseeing eyes, was a cracked Venetian mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN THIS CHAPTER HAS SO MUCH CHEESE IT MIGHT AS WELL BE A DELICATESSEN!!! For all of you who were hoping for an actual kiss, I'm so sorry (plsdontkillmewe'llgetthereeventually) but I felt like this was a good way for the two of them to gain awareness of the other's feelings without rushing into it.


	33. Chapter 33

 

Kuro’s feet hit the concrete below her with a stinging impact, although she wasn’t actually hurt. Shouta had a far easier time getting down - having a scarf that could be used as an abseil was a definite asset for urban hero work. For her, she needed to make a slightly more rambling way towards the street, swinging off an exposed pipe and angling downwards. They landed on opposite sides of the street, effectively cutting off their target’s escape route. 

With how close the masked villain was to her own end of the street, it was a miracle they’d been able to stop her - she had been a split-second slow to react; understandably, she supposed, given how close they had been to…

 

That particular thought was interrupted by a fist inches away from her face, so close she could feel the airflow breeze past her cheek. Shit, she needed to stay focused - there was time to dissect the past few moments later. She aimed a kick to the lower torso but missed, her attacker having moved away at the last minute. Most of her face was obscured by the painted porcelain, but a missing piece at the jaw and mouth showed bared teeth twisted into an animalistic snarl. Behind her, Shouta was making his approach, the weapon unwound from around his neck and ready for use.    
  
Maybe the masked woman had heard his steps, or seen Kuro looking beyond her shoulder to the man behind her, but in a flurry of black clothing she turned around, sending a flash of silver through the air from her hand. It was only because of his reflexes as a hero that he was able to dodge, a thin red line across his cheek from the edge of the blade that would otherwise have hit him head on. 

 

In the tiny window of time where the anonymous attacker was assessing her knife’s trajectory, Akane took her chance. Bringing forth the artificial claws hidden underneath the fabric of her glove, she slashed at her opponent, tearing fabric away and leaving a waterfall of scarlet ichor in its wake. Finally, a good hit.    
  
The woman hissed in pain at the wound, placing her hand over the affected area. At first, Kuro thought she was trying to see how much damage she’d taken, until a flash of bright green light came from her palm. When the brightness had dimmed the wound was no longer visible, simply a bloodied patch of bare, uncut skin. Now healed, the figure lunged at her with yet another knife in hand, missing by centimetres. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she scampered away from the serrated weapon, her back hitting hard brick. Her body was working on instinct now, scrambling and throwing her own attacks, darting from place to place.    
  


The aim was to get at the mask - if she could crack it off the face, then they would have a description to track her down by, even if she got away. Unfortunately, ‘Mother’ appeared just as aware of this possibility, not allowing any of Kuro’s blows to near the cracked porcelain covering. A muted shriek of frustration rose from her chest, kicking out at the other woman. Every time she got a hit, the woman was simply able to heal herself. Risking the distraction of speech, she called to Shouta, who was circling them both, kept from engaging properly by the volley of knives being sent his way. How many did this woman have?! The capture weapon was tight in his grasp, but with how fast the two of them were moving, there was as much a chance that she as well as the intended target would get caught up in it. Her voice was little more than a gasp as she half rasped, half yelled,  
  
  
“Her hands! She’s got a healing quirk!”   
  
  
His head turned towards her, nodding slightly behind his goggles. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted - the chances of being stabbed were far too high for her to hazard more than a glance his way, noting the way his hair was raised and whipping about his head as if buffeted by an unseen wind.  It was impossible to see his eyes, but her suspicions were confirmed when she was able to open a gash in the hooded woman’s upper leg that remained even after a hand was placed over it, no flash of green light appearing. He’d erased her quirk. Kuro threw a grateful smile his way, which he returned with a small smirk. How the hell did he look that hot in the middle of a fight? It was totally unfair and entirely too distracting!

 

As if to prove her point, the only warning sign she had of the knife heading in her direction was a glint of metal in her peripheral vision. She darted to the left, but had only enough time to move part of her body, and instead of piercing the neck like it was aimed to, the blade buried itself in her shoulder halfway to the hilt.    
  
  
She should have been in pain. Writhing in agony, even. But all she felt was a dull ache and anger shooting through her veins like a hit of adrenaline, tearing an animalistic scream from her throat. Her vision was beginning to tunnel, but from the corner of her eye she could see the Erasure hero had deactivated his quirk and was moving to help her.    
  
  
“Don’t!” she snarled, not moving her glare from the battle at hand, “just keep her quirk erased - I can take her out.”    
  
Not bothering to remove the knife in her flesh, she leapt back into the fight, steel claws and blood-stained teeth bared in a grimace. If this was how she fought when injured, maybe she should get stabbed more often - there was nothing in her mind, nothing else in the world but the pounding of blood in her ears and the woman in front of her. 

 

_ Slash, punch, bite; _ anything that would wound her opponent in any way. The injuries were piling up on the body of the cloaked assailant, now unable to be healed. Kuro had her own bruises and cuts, not to mention the blade sticking out of her shoulder, but she couldn’t feel them nearly as strongly as she should have. She had an opportunity - the other woman was so focused on blocking her attacks that her body was left open. Drawing on every last drop of strength she had, Akane pulled her leg upwards and _ pushed _ . 

 

The masked woman was sent sprawling backwards to the hard concrete pavement, a cracking noise following nearly immediately after. _ Finally _ . The body was still for a moment, and both heroes moved forward. Just as she was about to crouch down and inspect the now bare but hood-obscured face, she heard a metallic clicking noise. 

 

Smoke. Smoke everywhere. Blinding her eyes. Forcing its way down her lungs. She could not see, and she could not breathe. The whole world was soot grey. She could hear scrambling movement and footsteps pounding on cement, but it was distant as a church bell from a basement. Coughing, spluttering, her body rejecting the vile fumes, she stumbled backwards into a solid mass of warmth. A hand wrapped over her nose and mouth, a scream dying in her throat. Panic rose like bile until a familiarly comforting, but unusually raspy voice whispered in her ear,   
  
“Don’t breathe too much. We don’t know what it is.”

 

It could have been seconds. Minutes. Hours. However long it was until the vapours dissipated was spent with her back to his chest, shallow breaths and steady heartbeats keeping her grounded even in the darkness. Little by little, the dull glow of street lamps returned to their usual brightness, and the world around them became clear again. Silence was held sacred for only a few more seconds, until she breathed out,    
  
“I lost her. I’m sorry.”

 

A large hand on her good shoulder turned her around, facing him properly. His face was stern, but something like worry flashed behind the tired eyes she had come to adore.    
  
“Don’t be. You did well - neither of us knew she had a smoke bomb,” his gaze drifted downwards to where the knife was still firmly lodged, jaw tightening, “you’re hurt. You should get to a hospital, get them to check it out.”

 

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his hand with a small pat. “I was lightly stabbed, it’ll be fine - the knife is stopping it from bleeding too badly. I’ll disinfect it and go see Recovery Girl in the morning.”   
  
“Kuro, that’s not good enough! You need to--”

  
A wail of sirens and the eyesore of red and blue flashing lights cut him off, several police cars coming into view at the mouth of the street. Shit. Shit shit shit shit  _ shit _ ! This was not good. She wasn’t licensed any more, and Shouta shouldn’t have been following this lead without back-up.   
  
“Stay behind me,” he muttered, pushing her gently backwards, his arm preventing her from taking any steps closer.    
  
Maybe they should have just gone to the hospital.


	34. Chapter 34

 

“What on earth were you thinking, Eraserhead?!” Detective  Tsukauchi’s concerned voice reverberated off the concrete walls of the interrogation room. He wasn’t shouting - in fact, he didn’t even seem that angry, but even so the reprimand came with a fair amount of weight behind it. Technically, neither Kuro nor the Pro she was with were under arrest. Not yet, anyway. There had been no handcuffs, they had been taken to the police station in the front seat, and asked if they wanted drinks when they arrived. But under that veneer of politeness, it was pretty clear that she and Shouta were in deep, deep shit. 

 

Almost as soon as they had arrived, Shouta had pushed her gently towards one of the other officers, practically ordering them to get her shoulder seen to. Frankly, she was grateful - now that the adrenaline had worn off, she could feel every ache and pain in her body so vividly that it was like being shivved all over again. Every nerve in her being sang so loudly with agony, it was an effort to keep from screaming at every sudden movement. With an already slightly bloody bandage wrapped tightly around her disinfected and newly knifeless wound, she was ushered into the bare room where her ‘accomplice’ was seated at a metal table, the detective chief standing before him, looking vaguely panicked.    
  
“Bringing a civilian into a professional investigation is the kind of recklessness I might expect from a rookie hero, not from you!” A hand ran through his black hair, and Akane saw Shouta’s jaw tighten slightly, his eyes not entirely meeting the detective’s. If she knew him at all, she knew he was thinking the exact same thing, no matter how untrue it was.    
  
“Actually,  Tsukauchi, I think you’ll find that this ‘civilian’ brought herself into the investigation.” Her footsteps echoed along the floor as she strode towards the table, taking a seat on the foldable chair next to Shouta. Almost immediately, he turned his head to look at her, and then to the bandage across her arm.   
  
“Kuro, did they heal the injury?”

 

With the shoulder she could still move without much pain, she shrugged noncommittally. “They’ve patched it up enough so that I won’t die of blood loss or infection - Recovery Girl is going to take a look in the morning,” she said, and taking in the furrow of his brow, added in a more soothing tone, “I’m fine, Shouta. They said that it shouldn’t have any long-term effect on my mobility and will heal up relatively fast.”    
  


A miniscule sigh of relief escaped him as he muttered, “Good. That’s… That’s good. You really should have gotten a suit with stronger fabric, I--” 

 

The reprimand was interrupted by a cough from the man in front of them, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Technically, she shouldn’t have gotten a suit at all. Kuramoto is unlicensed - by all accounts, what she just did is classified as vigilantism.”    
  
Aizawa looked between the two of them, slight confusion written across his face, “do you two already know each other?”    
  
“As a matter of fact, yes,”  Tsukauchi answered, sitting down across from them with a sigh, “we’ve been involved in the same court cases a few times - domestic violence disputes and the like, mostly where children are involved.” 

 

At this point, Kuro began to tap her fingers against the table in agitation. “That’s part of the reason I’m here in the first place, Detective. The girl living in the house we were watching, Akiyama Chiyoh, is one of my patients. It’s almost certain that she’s the next target of a woman calling herself ‘Mother’, who’s behind the recent spike in serious crimes committed by juveniles,” she had been practicing what she would say the entire time she was being treated - she only hoped it would be enough, “Shou- _ Eraserhead  _ and I are coworkers at U.A; he asked me to assist with analysing the psychological aspects of the case.”

 

The officer pursed his lips, looking as though he was about to argue further. Before he had the chance, however, Aizawa spoke up.   
  
“Kuramoto is a U.A alumni who chose not to take her Pro License exam; it wasn’t my intention to have her involved on a physical level, but… there was an incident, where it became apparent that her input on that front could be beneficial.” His face was void of emotion, and he kept his voice cold and logical, but even then Kuro could feel her heart swell with affection for the man beside her.    
  
Tsukauchi looked between them slowly, undergoing a change in expression as if he had just worked something out, before rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

 

“I’ll admit, her combat skills are impressive,” he looked almost annoyed at the fact as he went on, “but Aizawa, this is something our department’s been looking into as well - if you needed a psych profile on the kids, you could have asked. For all we know, Kuramoto’s help might have led this ‘Mother’ woman right to the girl in question - it could have put even more children in danger.”   
  
Akane had to take a moment to process his last statement - was he implying that what was going on now was somehow  _ her _ fault? Who gave him the right?! Privately, she’d been turning over the same question in her head since she’d first realised Chiyoh was a target, but to hear it coming from someone else? Externally, her face was neutral. But inside, she was seething.

 

“With respect, Detective, but I had my reasons for not seeking police assistance,” Shouta said from next to her, his eyes glancing over to meet her own.    
  
Tsukauchi looked at him, a slight sense of uncertainty in his posture. “And those would be?”    
  
By the clench in her partner’s jaw, it was clear that saying outright what had been keeping him from working with a man he obviously had respect for would be difficult for him. Akane had no such difficulty. She respected the man, of course, but when the safety of children were involved… 

 

“How your people have treated the kids he’s arrested for starters,” she snapped, looking up at the policeman in a challenging glare, “it’s all well and good to want them to be safe from ‘Mother’, but who’s keeping them safe from you? From what I’ve seen and been told, the way your department deals with juvenile offenders is to treat them like scum. So before you talk about child endangerment on our part, maybe you should take a long, hard look at your own practices.” 

 

From the look on his face, her outburst was entirely unexpected. Someone had once told her that she looked like a grumpy King Charles Spaniel when she was angry, and although she couldn’t quite shake the mental image, her anger was such that she couldn’t bring herself to care.    
  
For a moment, the whole room was silent. Then, a weary groan left the detective. “I… I didn’t know this was happening. I’ll speak with the officers at fault immediately, if you’ll give me their names. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you were operating without a license, Kuramoto. You could be facing heavy penalties, even with my word backing you up. I’m sorry, but there’s an expiration date on my ability to help you.”

 

People talk about having a lightbulb go on over their head when they figured something out. For Kuro, it was more like being whacked over the head with a shovel of realisation. Her teeth let go of her lip, which she hadn’t even realised she’d been chewing on.    
  
“Actually, Detective, I don’t think I’m entirely unlicensed.”

  
Both men turned to look at her, unsure of what she meant.    
  
“Aizawa,” she met his gaze, the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes, “do you know how long it takes for a Provisional Hero License to expire?”

 

He thought for a moment, before answering, “Unless it’s officially revoked, up to twenty years… which means yours is still up to date.” Understanding dawned on him, a slight grin making its way onto his face. Akane turned to Tsukauchi, mirroring the smile of the man beside her, albeit with a little more overt enthusiasm.    
  
“Which means that under the circumstances where I come across an altercation such as the one we were picked up for, I’m permitted to engage in combat. And considering I had a Pro Hero with me at the time,” her gaze slid to the side, offering Shouta a smirk, “I was technically acting within legal boundaries and therefore can’t be charged.”

 

The chief was quiet, seeming to mull over the argument she had just made. Finally, he looked up.   
  
“I forgot how stubborn you can be when you want to look after a kid,” despite the exasperated tone with which he spoke, there was a small smile on his face. He turned to Shouta, “it’s like dealing with a cheerful, blonde version of you.” 

  
Maybe that was meant to be a joking insult, but Akane couldn’t see it as anything other than a compliment. 

 

He continued, “I’ll allow it - on two conditions. One, that you share with us all the information you’ve got on the case so that we can compare notes, and two,” he turned to Kuro, and something in his eyes gave her a sense that she might not like what was coming, “that you take the exam for a full hero license within the next six months. You need to be registered if you keep pulling risky stunts like this, and that provisional hero license won’t help you if you keep running head on into danger.” 

 

Had… Had she just heard correctly? He wanted her to take the full exam?! She must have looked like a deer in headlights. He wanted her to become the thing she had actively chosen not to. At the same time that the thought terrified her, a more logical part of her brain was thinking as hard as it possibly could. If she became a Pro, she wouldn’t have to rely on Shouta for permission to go out on a mission if she had to. But what about when all this was over? She’d still be a pro. Could she retire that quickly? Technically, if she never had an ‘official’ debut, that wouldn’t be a problem. And with her current job, it would be easy enough to work both for a period of time. All things considered… 

 

“I’ll do it.”    
  
Shouta turned to stare at her like she had just announced that she planned on eating a live grenade. “Kuro, you don’t have to…”

 

She shook her head slightly, “Trust me, Shouta. I’ll work it out - if this is what it takes to make sure Chiyoh is safe, then I’m more than happy to take an exam alongside a bunch of eighteen-year-olds.” Her words were calm, but her eyes were silently pleading for him to let her do this. With a sigh, he shrugged at the officer,   
  
“If that’s what she wants to do.”   
  
A smile quickly spread onto Tsukauchi’s kind face. “Excellent! I’m sure it’ll be fine; you’ve already proved yourself more than capable, even without using your quirk. If you wouldn’t mind, though, I’d like to go over some basic details of the case you two have put together.” 

 

A scrape of metal against cement drowned out the last of his speech as Kuro began to stand up rather quickly; she was already moving on to the next item in her list of priorities. “I would love to help out, but I think I should talk to Chiyoh first. Am I correct in assuming she and her father are here making statements?”

 

The vaguely bemused Detective nodded at her. “Yes, but--”

 

“I’ll come and consolidate with you later,” she called, already halfway out the door, “but if you don’t mind, I’ve got a likely very traumatised kindergartener to talk to!”


	35. Chapter 35

Only after she was halfway down the hall did Akane realise that she hadn’t actually asked where her patient and her family were being kept. Well, that was embarrassing. For a moment, she entertained returning to the other room and asking for directions, but the thought of having to admit how shortsighted she had been was enough to quickly dispel that idea. Instead, she might as well look around for herself. She was about to resign herself to a longwinded search of the police headquarters, when something on the ground caught her eye. A small patch of distinctive orange rot lay unmoving on the cement floor below her. It was then that she remembered something that Fukuhara had said to her the first time she’d had an experience with Chiyoh’s quirk.

_ ‘It cuts through any organic material,’ _

 

Cement wasn’t organic. Kuro had assumed that the mould would simply dissipate if it couldn’t break down the matter it was on, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. The stuff simply lay over the top of it, though for how long she couldn't be sure. Looking with more focused eyes, she realised that traces of the child’s quirk lay all along the floor in little clusters. Not quite a trail of breadcrumbs, but it would do. Hastily, she followed the makeshift path of spores, stopping finally at the door to a room that looked like it was more of a waiting room than interrogation chamber. Bingo. Smiling to herself, she pushed the door open with a low squeak that declaimed the need for the well-worn hinges to be oiled.

 

Every person in the room looked up when she entered. Face to face with two people she recognised and one that she didn’t, Akane realised that she could finally put a face to the name of Chiyoh’s father. Kuro’s first impression of Mr Akiyama was that he was a man with a lot of worries. Tired eyes and a weary posture told her that even without the events of the last few hours, he seemed like he hadn’t had a proper night’s rest in weeks at the very least. It was a look that she knew all too well. Sitting on his lap, his daughter was holding a stuffed monkey to her tearstained face, sobbing into the synthetic fur in tiny, gasping breaths. A very disheveled looking Fukuhara was scribbling anxiously on a clipboard beside them, her usually tightly drawn bun a shadow of its usual perfection, a show of just how chaotic the night had been. 

 

Chiyoh practically leapt off her father’s knee when she caught sight of her psychologist, running up on stumbling legs to attach herself to Kuro’s hip in the preschooler’s version of a death-grip. 

 

“Kuro-chan! You’re okay! I was so worried! I heard shouting and police noises and Daddy said you had to talk to the officers about Dolly Lady!” Still in her patterned pyjamas, the child looked up at her and, noticing the bandage along her shoulder, burst into tears yet again. “You’re hurt! Did Dolly Lady hurt you because of me?” The guilt in her reedy voice was palpable.

 

The older woman had to fight off tears of her own at her client’s pathetic state; this poor kid had been through so much in one night, and likely had very little idea what was truly going on around her. Crouching down to Chiyoh’s level, Kuro engulfed her in a tight hug. Technically, that was against protocol, but with all that the young girl had been through, it seemed cruel to refuse her some much-needed physical contact on the basis of some silly rules. “Hey, hey… It’s okay, Chiyoh. I’m not hurt badly, and it’s not your fault at all,” she soothed, “You were very brave to talk to me about Dolly Lady, and it means that she won’t be able to come near you ever again.”

 

Chiyoh’s tears were soaking into the fabric of her dressing, but she couldn’t mind too much - a small price to pay in order to look after the kid she’d come to care about so dearly. A small movement from above her broke her attention away from the embrace, looking up to see Akiyama Jiro meeting her gaze.

 

“You’re Kuramoto Akane?” He asked, tugging nervously at the sleeve of his nightshirt. She nodded to him,

 

“Yes, I am. You must be Chiyoh’s father - I’m sorry to have come in unannounced, but I thought it might do her some good to see me.” She explained, standing up to face him at eye level, an apologetic smile on her freckle-dusted face.

 

He shook his head vigorously, his short hair the exact same shade of black as his daughter’s. “Please, don’t apologise. I should be thanking you - you’ve done her a world of good since she started seeing her. You and Eraserhead… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there to stop her. We… we thought she had an imaginary friend.” He sat back down, burying his face in his hands. “We should have seen the signs…” 

 

Kuro shook her head, placing a hand on his shoulder gently, “it wasn’t your fault, not any more than it was mine or anyone else’s. Assuming your child had an imaginary friend is totally sensible - more sensible than thinking someone was planning to kidnap her.”

She felt a tug at her hand, and realised that Chiyoh was looking at her. “Kuro-chan, if you see the man who stopped my quirk that time, can you tell him thanks? I forgot to tell him the first time.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest, a smile tugging at her face. Shouta would appreciate that, she knew.

 

“I’ll tell him as soon as I can,” a hand ruffled affectionately at the child’s hair, “have you all given statements?” She asked, turning back to the kid’s father and Fukuharu, who both nodded.

 

“Yes, we’ve told them everything we know.”

 

Well, if that had been taken care of… “That’s good - I think you should probably get Chiyoh home, then. She’ll need as much sleep as she can get.”

 

Mr. Akiyama nodded, picking his daughter up and putting her on his shoulders, where her head slumped onto the top of his almost immediately. “That’s a good idea - my partner must be worried sick. But thank you, for everything.” Smiling softly, he made his way out the door, the rusty hinges squealing as it swung shut. 

 

Silence reigned for a period of time that Akane couldn’t quite measure - the lack of sleep and physical injury were starting to get to her. In fact, she had almost forgotten Fukuharu’s presence until she spoke from behind her,

 

“The case should be over soon, you know. Her father’s been making a pretty solid argument as to why he should get primary custody, and the mother looks like she’s going to give in any day now.”

 

Akane turned to her, flashing a bright grin. “Fukuharu, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad it’s getting sorted out; the sooner the whole thing is over, the better.”

 

Emerald eyes were pointed downwards, the smile on the social worker’s face not reaching the whole of them. “Yes, I’m sure it will be a relief for everyone to see it dealt with. I believe he’s planning on moving cities when everything is settled, to get away from… you know what.” Despite  her words, Fukuharu’s tone was flat, even melancholy. Noticing her lack of enthusiasm, Kuro tilted her head to the side.

 

“You don’t sound very happy about it - don’t you think he should be given custody?” She asked, moving closer. The other woman sighed slightly,

 

“Not really… He’s a good man, I’m sure, but I worry… I always worry. What if something happens with her quirk? She’ll be so far away, what if I can’t help her? Or if he’s not up to it? I don’t think he should be taking her out of the city… I know it’s probably safer, but…”

 

Akane placed her hand over the other woman’s shoulder, wincing slightly when the movement tugged at her wounded arm. “Well, if you really don’t think it’s a good idea, you should do something about it. Speak to the judge, ask that he prevent the move. If he agrees, then it’s all worked out, and if he doesn’t, then you’ve done everything you can.” 

 

Fukuharu turned to her, her eyes suddenly bright. “You think I should take action?”

“I don’t see why not; if you think it’s in her best interest, then go for it! I’d help you figure out what to say, but I should really get going - I’m supposed to see Recovery Girl as soon as possible.”

 

She was practically skipping out the doorway by the time she’d finished speaking, returning Fukuhara’s bright grin in full force.

 

“Thank you, Kuramoto! You’ve been more help than you know.” A grateful smile shone luminous against the social worker’s face.

As the door closed behind her, she was moving so fast that she almost ran head-on into the man she came to the station with.

 

“Oh— Shouta! How did it go?” She asked, trying to ignore the sudden memory of calloused fingers brushing against her skin in a way that seemed almost reverential. Aizawa shrugged slightly, almost immediately continuing down the hallway.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. We’re far further along than they were, if you’re curious.”

 

A slight thrill went up her spine at the use of ‘we’ - it was almost embarrassing, how happy she was at even the littlest things. She was going to respond, when he turned around suddenly to face her, black hair falling in his face.

 

“Why did you agree to take the Pro exam? You could have bargained with him, you know. The way you weaselled your way out of the vigilante thing, getting him to give in on that would have been easy.” 

 

Akane thought for a moment. Why had she done it? There were the obvious reasons, of course - protecting Chiyoh, independent missions, but if she was being honest…

 

“I’m… I’m not really sure. I decided I didn’t want to be a hero because they always seemed so concerned with the bigger picture, no regard for personal or petty problems. The psychology road let me help people that way. But…” a flush came to her face unbidden, “seeing the way you operate - the underground stuff, working on a small scale, I realised that I could do both. I admired it, and I suppose it made me want to do the same. Besides,” she grinned at him, trying to lighten the mood, “I’d forgotten just how much I enjoyed combat.”

 

His face was blank for a moment, before a small grin appeared on his face. 

 

“Well, I guess you’ll need extra training, then.” 

The look of elation on her face was impossible to shake.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I will.”

 


	36. Chapter 36

 

Two weeks had gone by. Two weeks with no word from the Akiyama family or the police. The saying ‘no news is good news’ may have been true, but for Akane it might as well have been two weeks of torture. The first few days had been alright, but as time went on and the radio silence continued, this waiting game they were playing had become more and more unbearable. Nightmares not related to her quirk had begun to haunt her dreams, and on more than one occasion she had woken up screaming. It had gotten to the point where she couldn’t actually remember the last time she had slept, and what’s more, people were starting to notice. Usually, she could keep her exhaustion at a level that she was still able to look and act relatively normal at, but now she couldn’t even maintain that. She couldn’t let herself sleep. Not yet. No matter how much she wanted to… Just for a moment… 

 

“Kuro-sensei?”

 

She was snapped out of her daze by a familiar voice, looking up from her table in the lunchroom to see Midoriya, Uraraka and Tsu all standing in front of her with concern on their young faces. “Kuro-sensei, are you alright?” Midoriya repeated. 

 

It took a moment to process what he had asked, and she stared at him blankly for a second before answering,   
  
“Hm? Oh, yes! I’m fine, Mido-kun. Why do you ask?” 

 

The green-haired boy looked uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t quite sure what else to say. Thankfully, Asui picked up the slack, round eyes staring at her quizzically.    
  
“You’ve been distracted ever since you hurt your arm,  _ ribbit,” _ she said, “Midoriya and Uraraka wanted to check on you,” behind her, the two teenagers in question waved slightly, looking a bit embarrassed. As sweet as it was that they had thought to look in on her, Kuro was too tired to feel anything but guilt and self-blame. How could she let her own emotions get so volatile that the children she was meant to be treating were worried about  _ her _ ? It was pathetic, really, how badly she was handling the whole thing.    
  
Her smile was forced, practically plastered onto her face with craft glue when she responded to their enquiry with a voice that was hollow in it’s false cheer, “That’s very thoughtful of you three, but I promise I’m doing just fine. You should really be focusing more on yourselves than me; high school is such a difficult time, worrying about me is really the last thing you should be doing!” It was the last thing anybody should be doing. With everything she had done, or more accurately, failed to do, she really didn’t deserve anyone’s concern. To think anything else was stupid. 

 

_ Stupid. Pathetic. Useless.  _

She was still smiling, or at least trying to. It was then that she noticed how the kids faces had morphed from concerned to genuinely afraid, all three of them taking a step backwards.    
  
“Um… Kuro-sensei?” Uraraka’s voice had a tremble to it as she pointed to her own forehead hesitantly, “You… there are eyes. On- on your face. Where there shouldn’t be...”   
  
She hadn’t even felt them open. Stifling a whimper, she looked down at her hands to see that they, too, had grown their own eldritch orifices, red and black eyeballs swivelling in their sockets. It was time to go. Time to leave, before the rest of her quirk could show itself. Her body was moving before she had made the conscious decision to do so, hurrying towards the exit closest to her. Blood was dripping from her palms, splattering to the floor beneath her. Whatever nightmare was going to come first, it would be gorey. Even more reason to get out of the cafeteria as fast as possible. Practically tearing down the hall, she heard Midoriya behind her, his own footsteps running towards her.    
  
“Kuro-sensei, what’s going on?! Is it your quirk?!” He yelled from behind her. He couldn’t see her like this - see her for the utter mess that she was. Not pausing to look, she gasped back,

  
“Mido-kun, you should go! I’m so sorry, but this isn’t something you can help with!” 

 

Turning a corner, she was out of sight, leaving Izuku standing a few metres back. A few seconds later, his companions had caught up to him. “Midoriya, what happened? Is she okay?”    
  
“I…” He stared ahead of him, unsure what to think, “I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with her quirk - she said that we can’t help her.” 

 

The hallway was silent for a moment, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tsu was looking between the other two as if the solution was obvious. 

 

“Maybe  _ we _ can’t, _ ribbit _ , but there’s someone who can.”

 

  
  
  


Back in her office, Kuro fumbled with the lock on her door for a few seconds, before giving up entirely and sinking down to the floor, head buried in her arms. Black, viscous tears spilled from every eye she had, staining her skin and the carpet under her. As if her curse of a quirk wasn’t bad enough, she couldn’t even  _ cry _ like a normal person! Choked sobs filled the suddenly cramped room as her hands grabbed at her hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. 

 

The sickeningly familiar smell of old blood and rotting flesh attacked her nostrils, signalling the arrival of the monster that had started it all. Even now, years on, nothing had ever come close to the visceral terror she had felt the night her quirk had shown itself, and her own psyche seemed to delight in using that fact against her. Moans of pain reverberated from the gaping maw of the long dead corpse crawling towards her. On a logical level, she knew that it couldn’t physically hurt her - that was the only consolation; while others could be harmed by her nightmares, she herself was immune. Of course, that didn’t mean that they couldn’t psychologically torment her. Scrambling on her hands and knees, she backed away from the creature, curling up in the corner of the room. Decaying limbs dragged themselves towards her yet again, so close she could smell the earthy, sweet and rotten scent of death. Her eyes were screwed shut, hoping to block out as much of the horrifying vision as she could. Then, the apparition did something it had never done in all it’s twenty-four years of torment: it spoke.    
  
“Thisssss…. Isssss…. Youur…. Fauuult….” Every word seemed an effort, and although she had not yet opened her eyes, Akane let out a soft cry at the ghastly baritone. It took her a moment to realise that the voice had changed from the raspy call of a tortured soul to the childish lilt she knew all too well.   
  
“This is your fault, Kuro-chan.”

 

Her eyes flew open, greeted by the tiny form of Chiyoh, looking back at her with soulless eyes. It wasn’t real, but everything seemed to be in hyperfocus as the puppet-child continued, “It’s your fault I’m being chased by the Dolly Lady. It’s your fault your parents got divorced. It’s your fault you can’t control your quirk. It’s your fault. All of it is your fault.”

 

She should fight it. She should tell it that it was wrong, that those things happened for other reasons outside of her control. But what was there to dispute?    
  
“I know… I know it’s my fault.”

 

It could have been hours, or minutes, or mere seconds. However long it was, she remained trapped in the corner of the room like a mouse cornered by a cat. In front of her flickered various loved ones, all standing above her, reminding her of what a failure she truly was. Her mother, her father, everybody she had ever cared about. All telling her the truth she already knew. After a while, she began to settle into a numb acceptance. The pain was gnawing at her so constantly that it was almost monotonous.

 

Until a new voice drowned out the rest of the choir. 

 

“You really are pathetic. You know that, right?”

 

Aizawa Shouta was looking down at her, disdain palpable in every aspect of his being. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, even when he was looking at her like she was something distasteful stuck under the heel of his boot. Shrinking back even further, she couldn’t bring herself to turn away, inky black tears falling freely as he crouched down in front of her, the disgust in his eyes apparent.   
  
“What delusion ever made you think I might be interested in  _ you _ ? Tell me, what redeeming qualities do you have? What part of you could possibly hold any value? That you’re _ kind _ ?” a sour laugh fell from cruel, perfect lips, “You’re weak, Kuramoto Akane. Weak and useless,” one hand went up to touch her cheek in a patronising mockery of how it had done two weeks earlier, instead going straight through, “poor little girl, always wanting what she can’t have,” 

 

She couldn’t handle this - couldn’t let it go on any longer. Not this. Not him. Her voice shook with the effort of speech as she whispered, “You- You’re not real. You’re not Shouta. You a-are my nightmare. _ You’re not Shouta. _ ”

  
“Maybe, but isn’t this exactly what he would say if he knew? Exactly how he’d react to seeing you like you really are? You know it’s true. Why fight it?”   
  
“Because,” she spat, glaring up at her head’s version of Shouta, “you-- I--  _ we  _ don’t get to choose what he says. I can do that to anyone else, but not to him. So. This. Needs. To.  _ Stop. _ ” Her hand swiped through the figure like an exclamation mark, dissipating it into a red and black mist. She couldn’t stop the nightmares - she wasn’t calm enough to do that. But she could change them. Had to change them. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the mantra of her own worthlessness, but now at least, she didn’t have to hear it from the mouth of someone she adored.    
  
The torment continued. She was starting to doubt it would ever stop. A cocoon of pain was cloaking her in agony, so that the soft creaking of the door swinging open went unnoticed, as did the sharp intake of breath at the horror scene surrounding her. It was only the sound of a familiar voice that made her even look up. A voice that only moments ago had been filled with such contempt that it had stabbed at her very soul, now holding horrified worry.   
  
“Akane? What happened?”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this hurt my heart, I hope you appreciate that.


	37. Chapter 37

The list of things that scared Aizawa Shouta was unusually short. As a child, he’d had a phobia of dogs and loud noises, but those had gone away with age and experience. What few fears he did have now were more existential in nature - inadequacy, failing to save someone he cared about - all things considered, they were fairly normal worries in his line of work. The panic that gripped him when he opened the door of Kuramoto’s office was a different sort of horror altogether.

Black mist swirled in smokey tendrils, a soft light of deep red bathing the room in a hellish glow. Nightmares of all shapes and kinds crawled, flew or dragged themselves around, ranging from the typical horror movie monsters to a thing that was simply a creature made entirely of teeth. At the centre of the storm, rocking back and forth in the corner, was Akane. At least, he assumed that it was her - terror and her quirk had warped her to near beyond recognition.  Eyes covered her body with a frequency he had never seen before, and still there was the occasional new addition, all leaking a pitch-black goo that dripped to the floor in viscous, oily puddles. Her hands were buried in her hair, gripping at the strands as though they were thousands of tiny lifelines while strangled, choking sobs wracked her whole body. 

 

She looked like a monster. And yet it was her that he was scared for, not himself.    
  


“Akane? What happened?” 

 

There was no response. It was like she hadn’t even realised he was there, too wrapped up in the grotesque forms around her. It took him longer than it should have to realise he needed to use his own quirk - usually, it would have been the first thing he did, but it seemed that the aura of pure fear in the room had dulled his reflexes. The instant he felt his hair stand on end, everything around them stilled, and the monsters that had been tormenting her disappeared. She looked up at him, all her eyes trained in the same direction. But there was no relief reflected in the unnatural orbs - only fear. 

 

“O-oh God… No, no not again!” She whimpered, and her natural eyes began to brim with the strange jet black substance he now realised were tears, “I can’t do it again. Please, I-I can’t.”   
  
What had happened to her?   
  


“Kuro…” Shouta took a tentative step forward, moving down to eye level with her. The gesture only seemed to cause her more distress, and she curled further into herself, sobbing harder.    
  
Rocking herself, she began to chant softly, “You’re not real! You’re not real! You’re not--” the refrain came to a screeching halt when she placed her hand on his chest as if she were expecting it to go straight through. Startled, tear-stained eyes looked up at him in shock.

  
“... Shouta…?” 

 

Almost immediately, she placed her shaking hands on his face, moving them frantically as if to substantiate the reality of his presence. The contact seemed to soothe her slightly, and her voice had only a slight waver when she continued, “You… You’re really here? This- this isn’t one of my nightmares?”   
  
He had been in her nightmares? The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it. There was time to ask her later, when she had calmed down some more. A little unsure how to proceed, he settled with confirming what she’d asked of him. “Yeah, I’m really here. I’m real. I erased your quirk, see?” He pointed down to her hands, where the eyes were already beginning to close and retreat back into nothingness. His own hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she froze up entirely. For a moment he feared that he had done something wrong, until she collapsed against him like a marionette with cut strings, the soft sound of crying muffled into his shoulder.    
  
It was his turn to freeze. Shouta usually wasn’t comfortable with unexpected physical contact, but in that moment all he wanted was to comfort her as much as he could. He didn’t know exactly how, but he could at least try. A tentative hand came to rest in her hair, moving back and forth between the soft strands, rubbing gently against her scalp; his mother used to do the same to him as a child when he was crying or couldn’t sleep. The effect was near instantaneous, her whole body seeming to lose some of the tension that had been building beneath the surface. Her face was still buried in his shoulder, but he could hear that the tears had begun to lose intensity, and eventually stopped altogether. Even if the circumstances were less than ideal, he had to admit that this, that feeling her warm body pressed against his own, was  _ nice.  _ Her quiet breaths against the rise and fall of his own chest, the feel of her hair through his fingers, it all seemed to paint a picture of peace in his mind, even if he knew it couldn’t last. A few moments later, she pulled away with an embarrassed expression on her face, and he had to stop himself from keeping her tight against him. 

 

When she spoke, her voice still had a slight quiver to it. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry… Y-you shouldn’t have to see me like this- nobody should have to--”

 

“Kuro, it’s _ okay,” _ He met her gaze, “I wanted to help you. Do you know what happened? What caused it?”

 

She shook her head, “No- I mean, I do, but…” she shot him a small smile, “you don’t need to listen to me go on about it. You have enough on your plate without me.”

  
Why couldn’t she accept that he wanted to help her? The truth was, he would happily listen to her talk for hours if it meant she felt even slightly better by the end of it. He moved to sit next to her, mirroring her position of having her knees drawn up to her chest. “If you really don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I know I’m not the best with advice, but…” he stared ahead of him, not daring to meet her eyes just yet, “I am a pretty good listener.”

 

Akane dropped her head to rest on her arms, sighing heavily, “I don’t know… I guess I just haven’t slept in a while and it’s starting to get to me. And I… I can’t stop feeling like it’s my fault.”

 

At first, he wanted to ask how long ‘a while’ was - he already knew she didn’t get a lot of rest; any less than normal was seriously worrying, but her confession changed his concerns entirely.    
“What’s your fault?”    
  
She groaned. “Everything. Chiyoh being a target for that woman, my parents’ divorce. Just… Just all of it. All because I can’t control my  _ fucking _ quirk!” Her head shot back, hitting the wall behind her in frustration.    
  
There was so much he wanted to say to that - so many ways he wanted to prove her wrong. But deep down he knew that she was unlikely to believe him, no matter how true he knew he was. “Well, what would you say to a patient who said that?”

 

For a moment, she looked at him like he’d spoken a different language. “What?”

 

“I mean it, what would you tell one of the kids you see if they said something like that?”

 

Her brows furrowed in thought, before she slowly began, “Well… first of all, I’d tell them to ask themselves if what they were saying was true. Then I’d unpack the logic behind those thoughts, and why people tend to gravitate towards self-blame in situations out of their control…” 

 

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “So then why doesn’t that apply to you? Why are your feelings of guilt any more realistic than theirs?”

 

The flesh on her knuckles was white as she clenched her fists, staring intensely at the carpet still stained with the remnants of her tears. “I know. I know it’s illogical, and not something I would tell anyone else, but I just… I can’t…” Suddenly, she looked up at him with searching eyes, something akin to desperation in her features. “Shouta, do you think I’m weak?”

 

Did he think she was  _ what?!  _ He stared at her in disbelief. How could she possibly believe that he thought she was weak? 

 

“Akane, I think you’re one of the strongest people I know; why would you think that?” True, he may not have been the most expressive man, but he would have thought it was obvious how he felt about her, especially after that night on the roof. In those following weeks, the almost-kiss had consumed every idle moment of his mind. To him, he had thought that he’d made it fairly clear that he utterly adored her. He wasn’t sure he could call it love - not yet, not when he’d had so little experience with the concept, but it was without question the strongest he had ever felt for anyone. But maybe it hadn’t come across like that? Maybe he hadn’t been as unambiguous as he had originally thought.    
  
For her part, Kuro looked suddenly rather unsure of herself. “It’s… it’s nothing. Just something someone said to me a while back, about kindness being weakness.”    
  
Shouta had a sudden urge to find out who had said that to her, and teach them a lesson they would hopefully never forget. But that wouldn’t help her in the long run; something in her voice told him that there was a part of her that was having trouble ignoring the comment. Meeting her gaze steadily, he spoke in a low voice, “Kuro, listen to me - your kindness is not weakness. It’s your greatest strength. Even when we were in high school, the fact that you were  _ kind _ made you more of a hero than ninety percent of the people there. That’s not being good for the sake of being a hero, that’s being good because that’s who you are.”    
  
She was staring at him now, dark eyes wide in disbelief, and he realised that he’d never told her about that before.    
  
“You… you knew who I was? In highschool, I mean.”  Her whole body was turned around to face him, and he moved to do the same.

 

Well, there was no going back now. He took a deep breath.    
  
“Yeah, I did. I saw you that day in the cafeteria riot, helping that kid find somewhere to calm down. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I kept watching you… that sounds kind of creepy now that I say it out loud, but--”

 

Suddenly, there were lips against his. 

 

It was like the entire world had stopped around them as he realised what was happening. She was kissing him.  _ She _ was kissing  _ him _ . Leaning forward on her knees, one hand cupping his jaw. It was actually happening. Shock had him frozen in place, eyes wide in disbelief. He almost couldn’t believe that it wasn’t a dream - it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. Only when she pulled away abruptly, looking as if she’d made the greatest mistake of her life did he realise that not only was this real, but he had given no indication of enjoying it. 

 

“Shouta, I’m- I’m so sorry! I don’t know what- what I was thinking, I guess I just got caught up in everything. I’m so sorry, please don’t- sorry...” She began to move her hand away from his face as if it had burned her when his own moved up to cover it, pressing it firmly back into place.    
  
“Don’t apologise…” he muttered, now unable to look anywhere but her own slightly parted lips. Slowly, he moved his thumb up to trace the bottom curve, feeling the hitch in her breath as he did so. It was hypnotic, the way the soft skin moved beneath his touch, but he wanted more. As if on autopilot, he began to lean forward, eyes still focused on her flushed cupid’s bow. At the last moment, his gaze flickered upwards to meet her own dilated pupils. He had to hear her say it, or at least tell him somehow that this was okay. All he could manage, however, was a mumbled, “Can I…?” 

 

He hoped it didn’t sound like he was pleading, but privately, he knew that was exactly what he was doing. 

She nodded - a tiny, shaking gesture, and he broke.    
  
At first, the kiss was slow. Tentative. A gentle exploration of the lips that had driven him to distraction for so long. He felt a hand snake up into his hair, gentle fingers running through in a repetitive motion that had him groaning gently into the meeting of their mouths. As his tongue slid lightly over her bottom lip, he could taste the echo of the bubblegum she’d been chewing earlier that day, and couldn’t help bringing his free hand to the curve of her jaw and pulling her closer, trying to close what little distance was left between them. She was practically straddling him now, his face tilted upwards in her hands. Slowly, her mouth opened to give him entry. 

 

Despite the position, despite the filthy thoughts that had plagued him practically since they first met, despite how badly he wanted her in every possible way, this was something more meaningful than an expression of carnal desire. This was months of longing, of lonely nights and empty arms. This was weeks of wondering how their lips would feel moving in tandem and wishing there was a way to know. This was desperation, yes, but not for her body. It was simply desperation for her. And from the soft mewl she made when his teeth grazed across her lip, the slow, rhythmic movements of her fingers in his hair and the way she held him like she was afraid he would disappear, it was desperation she shared wholeheartedly.

 

The need for air was pushed to the back of his mind until neither of them could handle any more, and even then they didn’t pull away entirely. Her forehead rested against his own, soft panting the only noise that could be heard. Slowly opening his eyes, the air was nearly knocked from him again upon seeing her flushed cheeks on freckled skin, her mouth swollen from kisses and her eyes holding something he could only describe as worship. 

 

God help him, she was beautiful. 

 

Part of him wanted to ignore the vibration of the phone in his pocket. Hold this sacred moment for as long as he could, commit as much as possible to memory. But something told him that this was important. The moment he read the text across the screen, the secret world they had created in eachothers’ arms came crashing down. It must have shown in his face, because the next thing he heard was her soft voice asking,   
  
“Shouta, what is it?”

  
He looked up at her, trying to preserve the last dregs of the peace he had seen across her features for that fraction of a moment before the rest of the world came knocking. It couldn’t last forever. Already starting to get up, he fixed her with a stare of such intensity that he rarely used.    
  
“We need to get to the police station.  _ Now _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case y'all haven't noticed, I am incapable of letting these characters have a single happy moment together. But hey!! at least they actually kissed this time!


	38. Chapter 38

 

It was a miracle that she hadn’t thrown up yet. Standing out the front of the kindergarten, surrounded by the red and blue flashes of police cars, it was all Kuro could do not to let her knees give way beneath her. It had all happened so quickly; one moment, she had been kissing Shouta - she still needed to let that sink in - and the next, they were both racing out the gates of the school towards the directions sent to Aizawa’s phone. The fact that she had neither lost her lunch or just passed out on the sidewalk was a victory in and of itself, but the constant churning in her stomach felt as though it was eating her from the inside.    
  
Shouta had kept her body pressed close into his own as they made their way towards the school, as if he were trying to protect her from something neither of them could see. From an outside perspective, they might even have looked like a couple - the thought had her heart racing even more intensely than it had been before. Almost from the moment the building and the crowd surrounding it came into view, Detective Tsukauchi came bounding up to them, looking as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

  
“Eraserhead, Kuramoto, thank you for coming so quickly! It’s a madhouse out here.”

 

Inwardly, she scowled at the pleasantry, though she knew it was irrational to be so annoyed at such a small thing. They didn’t have the time to stand about exchanging news about the weather! “Of course, Detective,” she replied curtly, “what’s happened, exactly?” She could already tell that this was not going to be good - better to cut the line as fast as possible and get to work.    
  
Tsukauchi seemed to sense her agitation, his eyes darting between the two of them apprehensively. “Someone has abducted Akiyama Chiyoh from her preschool.”    
  
Kuro inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut - she knew that it had to be something like this, but hearing it said aloud didn’t make it any better. Distantly, she could feel Shouta’s grip around her hand tighten, though whether that was to comfort her or out of his own frustration it was hard to tell. The detective went on, “We believe she was taken between twelve and twelve-thirty, during her class’s lunch period. Until then, she was accounted for and afterwards, she was reported missing on the role.”

 

She could feel her jaw clench in annoyance, and before she could temper her words, she spat, “was _ nobody _ looking out for her? Where were the teachers on supervision? Were they even informed that she was at risk of abduction?!” This wasn’t like her - she was rarely so outwardly hostile, preferring to keep her anger hidden under a veneer of politeness and cheer.   
  
The detective seemed to think so too, looking somewhat affronted at her sudden outburst. “We- we did tell the staff that this was a risk. They assure us that there was a teacher on duty at the time, but that there is apparently a dip in the playground near the fence that is somewhat of a blindspot. We believe that the kidnapper was able to take her from that location - there aren’t any signs of a struggle, but we found a syringe on the ground near the area which we believe to have been filled with a sedative in order to subdue her. There are lab tests being run as we speak.”    
  
Akane rubbed at the bridge of her nose with a sigh, sorting out the information in her head. She needed to see where the so-called ‘blindspot’ was, assess it for herself. At the very moment she was about the head off in the direction he had indicated, she felt a light tug on her arm, drawing her attention to where Shouta was pointing. “Is that Mr. Akiyama, over by the gate?” 

 

Both she and the police chief nodded at the same time. The poor man looked like a wreck, and who could blame him? Aizawa turned to her, and although he was now in ‘hero mode’, she couldn’t help noticing that there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at her that she hadn’t really noticed before; or if she had, hadn’t dared to identify it as such. “Do you want to talk with him? It might be useful to see how he’s holding up.”     
  
With a nod, she began to stride towards Chiyoh’s father, who had just finished speaking to another constable. When he saw her, his shoulders seemed to slump even further, but this time there was a sense of relief in the gesture.    
  
“Kuramoto! Thank God you’re here! She- she took Chiyoh!” His eyes began to brim with tears, and he had to wipe at them from behind his glasses, stifling a sob. “Oh God, she took my baby girl!” 

 

As angry as she was, her heart went out to her patient’s father - the man was obviously distraught. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, she forced her voice to remain level as she spoke. “Mr. Akiyama, it’s alright. We’ll get her back - the police are working as hard as they can, and it’s only been a couple of hours so the chances of finding her as fast as possible are very high.” She could feel herself reverting back to the limited amount of knowledge she had about kidnappings from the few cases she had taken where something like that had been involved. “Think of it as a custody kidnapping - from what we can tell, the woman who did this doesn’t want to hurt Chiyoh. She’ll very likely come back safe and unharmed.”   
  
At the mention of custody, the man only seemed to become more distressed. “I had just- I’d just settled the custody with Chihiro, too! We were going to move back to Tokyo with my parents, so Chiyoh could get to know her Nana and Grandad. Oh God, how am I going to explain this to them?!” 

 

“With any luck, after it’s all over. The minute we get her back, you’ll be on the first plane to Haneda airport and on your way to your parents’ place. You should go home; get any recent photos of her and make posters. Eat something, call your girlfriend. It’s being handled, and the best thing you can do for Chiyoh right now is take a step back and let yourself breathe.”    
  
With a shaky breath, Akiyama pulled himself up off of the bench he had been sitting on. Taking her wrist in his own hand and holding it tightly, he stared at her with pleading eyes. 

 

“Promise me you’ll get her back.”

 

Meeting his gaze with a calm determination, she nodded.    
  
“I promise.” 

 

Her continued path towards the edge of the gated play centre was a soldier’s march, determination in every step to reach the place where Chiyoh had last been seen. Another hand around her wrist halted her in her tracks, turning around to see Shouta standing behind her.    
  
“Kuro, wait. We should talk about this first.”   
  


God, not him too? Biting back a smart remark, she replied tensely, “What is there to talk about? We need to start where the primary location is, see if we can find anything that the police might have missed.”

 

Dark brows were set in a determined line as if he was chastising one of his students. The comparison only served to annoy her further. She wasn’t a child, dammit! “We need to discuss whether our involvement here is necessary - we’ll extract Chiyoh when they find her, but tracking her down is police work.”   
  
Shock was her initial reaction - how could he stand back and let others do the work they had a responsibility to complete? Along with a slight pang of hurt, anger was rising dangerously close to the surface of her being, threatening to spill over the side if Akane wasn’t careful. She was sure he could hear the shake of her voice, low as it was when she responded, “Shouta, of course it’s necessary - I promised her father I would find Chiyoh, and you said yourself you don’t want to work with the police on this!” her inflection rose near the end of the sentence, telegraphing her barely-controlled frustration. 

 

“I said I didn’t want the police to be involved if they were treating juvenile offenders like shit! This is entirely different!” It was obvious he was barely keeping his own cool. “The detectives are trained for this kind of thing - you aren’t. It could end in you getting hurt unnecessarily! I know you care about Chiyoh, I know you see her as a young version of yourself and that you want to save her from everything you went through, but you can’t always be the one to do that!”

Tears were pricking at the corner of her vision, but she blinked them back before he could see. She didn’t want to be seen as weak here; it would only give him even more of an excuse to put her on the bench. “This isn’t about that, Shouta!” She was close to yelling now, barely keeping her voice low enough that they would be hard to overhear, “I’m trying to help because one person could make all the difference.  _ We _ could make all the difference! What if one extra person on the case had meant you found out what happened to your father? What if one more person helping meant it didn’t go cold? I need to help, Shouta, because if I don’t, and something happens,” her voice dropped to a whisper, barely holding her back from crying, “ _ I’m never going to be able to forgive myself. _ ”   
  
Something had changed the moment she brought up his father’s death. Shouta had taken a step forward towards her, eyes alight with a kind of anger she had never seen before. Now that he was only a few inches away from her, she almost wanted to shy away. Finally, he spoke, low and furious,    
  
“Don’t  _ ever _ bring up what happened to my father again, understand? You don’t get to use my family against me. They are  _ not _ some argument you can pull out to prove your point!  _ My childhood is not. a. god-damned. bargaining. chip. _ ”

 

“Neither is mine!” She spat, finally raising her volume enough to match her anger. She wanted to apologise - the words had slipped out before she had even had the chance to think about how they might affect him. Guilt seemed to seep into every pore in her body, and the urge she had to throw herself against him and tell him she was sorry, over and over again, was nigh unbearable. But Akane Kuramoto’s pride was a beast that reared its ugly head at the worst possible time. “I want to help Chiyoh because it’s the  _ right thing to do _ , not because of some childhood trauma like you’re insinuating!”

 

Suddenly, it was all too much. To be close to screaming at the man she had been clinging desperately to only an hour earlier, having him look at her like he didn’t recognise her when once his gaze seemed as though he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. To want to make things right, but have something inside her holding everything back. The walls of her mind were closing in around her. She was practically gasping for breath when she managed to rasp out, “Shouta, I can’t- I can’t do this right now. I just can’t. I need- need to be alone.”   
  
Turning on her heel, she began to walk back the way she had come at a pace that was closer to a run than anything else. Behind her, she heard him call,   
  
“Akane, where are you going?”   
  
There was something like fear, or desperation in his voice, but she had no choice but to ignore it lest she break down then and there. Not turning back, she shouted back,  
  
“Home, Shouta! I’m going _home!_ ”

 

At the time, she really didn’t think it was a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't tell if I'm a sadist for making you guys read this, or a masochist for making myself write it. Either way, I am so, so sorry.


	39. Chapter 39

_ “We’re sorry, but the number you have called is not available -- please leave a message after the tone.” _

 

The smooth, automated female voice in Kuro’s ear was the antithesis of everything she was feeling right now. How could anything be so calm at a time like this?! With the steady rhythm of her feet against the pavement, Akane’s anger had quickly turned inwards, the realisation of what she’d said and done crashing over her in tsunami waves of remorse. In a way, it was better he hadn’t picked up his phone - she didn’t know if she’d be able to have an actual conversation with him after what had happened. No, it was better just to send a message uninterrupted and let him do with it what he thought was best. A high-pitched beep signified the beginning of the recording, and she took a deep breath.

  
“Shouta, It’s Akane. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I needed to say- I need to say that I’m sorry. The things I said, I had no right to say them and how upset I was is no excuse for that. This probably isn’t helpful at all, and doesn’t mitigate the hurt I must have caused, but I just- I felt like I should let you know. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll see you at work, I guess. Bye.” 

 

Burning sun beat down on her back, her head hung low as she stared down at her feet and the path below her. With everything that had happened, it was hard to believe that it was still only mid-afternoon, and if not for the dark shadow of her thoughts blocking out the light, it would have been a beautiful day. How had everything gone wrong so quickly? Although there were no tears threatening to spill from her eyes (she had cried herself out that morning,) there was a kind of grief in her heart that seemed to consume her entire being. She had failed Chiyoh - allowed her to be taken when she had promised that the child was safe. And whatever she might have had with Shouta - ruined before it had even had the chance to begin. In a way, it might have been kinder if they had never shared a kiss on the floor of her office; at least, then, she wouldn’t have to live with the pain of knowing she had likely killed any feelings he had returned for her. 

 

Lost in her own world of self-pity, it took a cool breeze across the sidewalk for her to realise that something had made a hole in her shoe. At first, she huffed in frustration, pulling the brown leather flat off her foot to inspect the damage - these were her favourite pair, too! Sure enough, there was a hole in the material about large enough to stick her thumb through, though the near perfect circle of the tear made her think more of something burning or eating its way through the shoe than something that had ripped into it. Looking closer, she saw with a jolt of surprise that made her drop the thing altogether that the hole was getting bigger. 

 

Something  _ was  _ eating away at it, but it wasn’t an animal. She knew that dark orange rot too well to believe otherwise. 

 

Heart pounding in her ears, her eyes frantically scanned along the expanse of concrete below her for the source of the decay. Sure enough, smeared across the grit of the cement where her footprint must have walked was a tiny patch of that distinctive mould belonging to her missing patient. A few meters along the path, there was another, and then another. Now that she was looking for them, the little spots of orange fungi were glaringly obvious. A trail of breadcrumbs indeed. 

 

As though she were in a trance, Kuro’s feet seemed to follow where the rot lead her, her mind now solely focused on locating the next checkpoint of leftover corrosive. All she knew was that at the end of that path was Chiyoh, and she needed to get there. Soon. If the logical part of her brain had been in full working order that day, she might have hesitated. Called for backup, or taken Shouta’s advice and stepped away entirely to give the police their space to follow the trail themselves. But with the typhoon raging inside her head, she could only really think of the child waiting for her at the end. 

 

Her search came to an end at the base of a hill overgrown with weeds, save for the few flecks of dead and rotted grass where the foliage had come into contact with Chiyoh’s quirk. An ornate but horribly rusted iron gate groaned slightly in the wind, an eerie siren song in the otherwise dead silence of the afternoon heat. At the top of the hill stood a mansion, towering above the yard like a monolith. Looking to have been built in an imitation of an italian manse, the large expanse of brick and windows seemed a ghost of greying paint and cracked glass, glaring out at the rest of the world. Nobody had lived here for years. Or it looked that way, at least. Brushing away dead tendrils of ivy, Kuro was able to make out an inscription on a bronze plaque by the gate, reading:

 

_ Villa Del Cuore Sanguinante. _

 

Filled with newfound conviction, she pushed tentatively at the metal monstrosity before her, and to her surprise it swung open easily, albeit with a groan that almost sounded like a human cry of pain. Ignoring that particular creepy image sticking itself into her head, she began the trek upwards to the house itself, wading through the overgrown grass and stopping just short of a wooden front door half eaten away by rot, though not of the type she was searching for. There, she paused for a short moment, realising the fact that at this point in time, nobody knew where she was. If something should go wrong, she was entirely on her own. God, she would need to call Shouta again, wouldn’t she? Cringing internally, she redialled the number. Unsurprisingly, it rung out and left her on voicemail. Mustering all the confidence she could into her voice, she spoke into the device.   
  
“Shouta, it’s me again. I think I’ve found where she’s taken Chiyoh-- and before you say anything, I promise I wasn’t looking for it. I literally stumbled into it. Anyway, I’m going in to try and find her. If I’m not back within an hour of sending this, call for backup. I’m at a place called ‘ _ Villa Del Cuore Sanguinante’ -  _ it’s in the area with all the abandoned houses. See you later. Hopefully.”    
  
With a sigh, she hung up and tested the door. That too creaked open, barely hanging on its hinges, opening up to an entrance hall that would once have been breathtaking but now only put shivers up her spine. The whole place smelled of mildew and decay, but there was a surprising lack of settled dust on the floor and staircases, leading Akane to the conclusion that this must be some kind of permanent hideout, though nobody seemed to be home. Ignoring the urge to call out for someone (that seemed just a little  _ too _ horror movie cliche for her tastes), she re-started her search for Chiyoh’s trail. The splotches of deteriorated matter were harder to come by now, or perhaps the disrepair of the mansion itself made them difficult to spot, but she managed. Making her way up the stairs, it became apparent just how many rooms the place had - too many doors to count, and if it weren’t for the guide she had it would have been easy to lose herself in the maze of corridors.    
  
The walls were mostly bare, apart from the occasional light fixture or closed door. Every so often, she thought she saw movement from the corner of her eye - already on guard, she decided not to pursue it. Let them come to her; it would be easier to fight if she could know that Chiyoh had a confirmed whereabouts. As she turned another corner, her eyes landed on a gargantuan painting hung at the end of the walkway. Under layers of dust and faded paint, it was possible to see that it was a family portrait; a man and a woman in formal attire stood imperious and cold, their eyes seeming to stare out from the canvas straight at her. Each of them had a hand on the shoulder of two young girls in white dresses - twins, by the looks of it, with dark brown hair and pale skin. One girl had her arm wrapped protectively around the other’s waist, as if to shield her sister from something. Nobody in the family looked particularly happy, but this girl in particular had a look on her face that spoke of untold anger at the world. It was disconcerting, to see such vivid emotion in a painting, let alone one of a child. 

 

Realising that she had been distracted by the artwork, Kuro shook herself slightly and continued onwards. Yet again, the trail seemed to come to a stop in front of a closed doorway, the burnt sienna of Chiyoh’s rot creeping partially into the crack between the door and the carpet beneath. Deciding not to risk barging straight in this time, she stood beside the door and listened for a moment. Yes, that was definitely breathing - somebody was inside. In the midst of weighing up the options, a tiny, familiar sob reached her ears and made the decision for her. 

 

Muffling the noise of her entrance into the carpet, going unnoticed meant that Akane had the time to assess the scene. This was undoubtedly a child’s bedroom - or, to be more precise, children. On either side of the room, two small four-poster beds stood with linens mouldy from age, a small stuffed bear on each. The wallpaper here was different, too - where the rest of the house had walls of an off-white, here, it would once have been a soft pink, rendered grotty and grey with age. Above one of the beds hung a venetian mask that seemed near identical to the one she had seen on the ‘Mother’, that night outside Chiyoh’s house, the only difference being that instead of gold filigree, this one had etchings made from silver. The wall above the other bed was bare. And in the middle of it all, surrounded by toys that had not been played with in years, was Chiyoh.    
  
A sharp intake of breath, and the child turned her head, her braids spinning like whips. With wide eyes, she began a cry of ‘Kuro-Chan!’, until Kuro herself put a finger over her lips, shushing the child gently as she crouched down beside her.    
  
“Chiyoh, listen to me; I’m going to get you out of here, but you need to be very,  _ very _ quiet. Can you do that for me?”    
  
Wordlessly, the girl nodded. Offering a comforting smile, Kuro began to stand. “Good girl. Now, I need to make sure that nobody is following us, and then we can go. Do you know how many people are here?”

 

This time, her response was a shake of the head. “I don’t know,” she whispered, “I think a lot - Dolly Lady said they were my new brothers and sisters.”

 

Well, that complicated matters slightly; if there were multiple people- multiple  _ children  _ in the house, an escape would be decidedly more difficult. Still, she couldn’t give up hope. “Alright, well we’re going to have to be as quiet and as fast as possible,” she muttered, and noticing the scared look on Chiyoh’s face, added, “It’ll be over soon, you’ll see.”

 

Chiyoh didn’t seem comforted by the words, whispering in a voice that seemed deathly afraid, “Kuro-chan…”

 

“Chiyoh, it’s okay. You’ll see your daddy again in no time, and then you can all go and live with your grandparents - doesn’t that sound nice?”

 

The creak of a footstep behind her came at the same time as Chiyoh screamed, “Kuro-chan! Look out!”

  
Spinning to look behind her, the last thing Kuro saw before something heavy and wooden collided with her head were a pair of eyes. 

 

A pair of emerald green eyes. 


	40. Chapter 40

He still hadn’t answered her voicemails. Akane had phoned him twice, but both times, Shouta couldn’t bring himself to pick up. Even the messages she had left him remained untouched in his missed calls. Hearing her voice right now would be too much, so he ignored it. One small blessing was that by the time he had dealt with the police and made his way back to the academy, class had finished for the day. He was already on edge, and having to wrangle his group of precocious future heroes may well have been the last straw. Being responsible for multiple expulsions was not how he wanted to end his day.    
  
Ignoring Hizashi’s greeting in the hallway, the first thing he did when he reached his classroom was collect the large stack of essays left for him by whatever substitute the kids had been given. Thank God for Pre-Quirk Era History - the mind-numbing repetitiveness of twenty or so reports on the same subject would be boring enough to take his mind off of the afternoon. Or so he thought, anyway. Usually, burying himself under mountains of work was his way of dealing with unpleasant emotions, but today, the scrawling Kanji of his students did nothing but sink him further into thoughts of the conversation that he was desperately trying to ignore. 

 

The betrayal on Kuro’s face when he had snapped at her seemed like it was irrevocably branded behind his eyes, haunting him whenever he tried to close them. He’d overreacted - almost as soon as her back had turned on him, regret had hit him like a sledgehammer. Hearing anyone talk about his father was painful enough, but when it was used against him, even inadvertently so, something in him had broken. The worst thing about it was that he couldn’t even be angry at her. Her argument had made sense; in a manhunt like this, the police needed all the help they could get. But in that moment, every part of him was screaming that he couldn’t allow it to be from her. 

  
Something had changed when he kissed her. Aizawa Shouta had never considered himself a particularly overprotective man - if he thought that someone could handle themselves, then he was happy to let them be. Akane could more than take care of herself - he’d seen it up close and personal twice now, and it had impressed him both times. But with the taste of her lips still lingering on his tongue, the voice that had told him not to let her come with him to the daycare had returned at full force. Holding her close to him as they made their way over had abated the feeling for a time, but when she had announced her intentions to involve herself fully in the search it was like the proverbial floodgates had opened. She wouldn’t back down, of course, and his insistence had only made things worse. Her refusal to stand aside was equal parts admirable and infuriating, but at the time he could only think of all the things that might go wrong. Ironic, that his need to keep her by his side was what had driven them apart. 

  
By now, he had given up on trying to grade the papers in front of him. Staring at nothing in particular with his head resting on his hand, only the agitated drumming of his fingers against the desk would clue the casual observer in on his tumultuous emotional state. He had screwed up big time - it would be a miracle if he could even look Kuro in the eye tomorrow. The sound of the classroom door rolling open would usually have caused him to turn and see who was there, but his fixed scowl barely even flickered to the side enough to recognise the intruder.   
  
“Go away, Kageyama. I’m grading papers.” 

 

There was a scoff from the brunette woman, striding across to where he was sitting. “No you’re not, you’re staring at the wall like it insulted your mom. What happened? Did Midoriya break his arm again?”   
  
His jaw tightened in annoyance. “None of your business. What do you want?” 

 

Kal rolled her eyes, looking even more like a petulant teenager than usual, “Whatever. I wanted to ask if you know where Kuro is - she hasn’t shown up for training, and she’s never late.”

 

Great. Yet another reminder of how he’d fucked up any possible chance at a relationship between them. Keeping his voice as neutral as possible, he responded, “How should I know? Last I heard, she went home. You should try there.”    
  
Shaking her head, Kal showed him the five unanswered calls to both Akane’s mobile and home phones in her call history. “I tried - she’s not picking up. At all. No texts, nothing.”    
  
Apprehension began to coil in the pit of his stomach - to miss so many calls seemed unlike Kuro, no matter how upset she was. What if something had happened? With a small groan, he pulled out his own phone. “She left me some voicemails - I haven’t had the chance to listen to them yet,” didn’t have the guts, more likely, “maybe that’ll tell you where she went and you can leave me alone.”

  
Kal nodded, and he pressed play on the first. Almost immediately, pain lanced through his chest at how unhappy the recording of her voice sounded;

  
_ “Shouta, It’s Akane. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I needed to say- I need to say that I’m sorry. The things I said, I had no right to say them and how upset I was is no excuse for that. This probably isn’t helpful at all, and doesn’t mitigate the hurt I must have caused, but I just- I felt like I should let you know. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll see you at work, I guess. Bye.” _ __   
  


 

When he looked up from the screen, Kageyama was glaring at him with narrowed eyes. 

 

“Something you wanna tell me, Eraserhead?” she asked, a dangerous edge lacing her words. “What’s she saying sorry for, huh?”

 

Shouta had to stop himself cringing at the memory - he really didn’t want to tell Kal what had happened, what he had said, but as the minutes passed his anxiety only grew. The two women were best friends - maybe Kal knew of some place where Kuro went when she wanted to be alone? Sighing, he started to recount the events of the afternoon, deciding to begin just  _ after  _ the incident in Akane’s office. It hurt all over again to repeat their exchange, so much so that he didn’t realise that Kal had moved even closer to him. Finishing the account with Akane storming away from the area (and from him), he looked up only to see a fist flying towards him and hitting him square in the stomach. 

 

“What the hell, asshole?!” Kal yelled at him - it seemed a little unfair to call him the asshole when she was the one who had just hit him, but before he could point that out, the shorter woman continued, “no wonder she’s fucking upset! The way you spoke to her, it was like you hated her! You of all people should know how much that would screw with her!”   
  
Stunned into silence, Aizawa listened to her with steadily increasing guilt. Kal was right - she had said herself that she was hypersensitive to people’s perception of her; yelling at her like he had must have crushed her. God, he really had fucked this up, hadn’t he? He wanted to say something in response, but all he could muster was a soft, “I don’t hate her. At all.”    
  
Something like a growl came from the woman beside him. “I know that! Everyone in this fucking school knows that! The point is that you hurt her, and now we don’t fucking know where she is!” Her fist landed on the desk with a bang, the impact sending several papers flying to the floor. “Just- just play the next voicemail. If she doesn’t say where she is in that one, I’m gonna go look for her myself.” Deciding to stay quiet this time, Shouta selected the next message.

 

_ “Shouta, it’s me again. I think I’ve found where she’s taken Chiyoh-- and before you say anything, I promise I wasn’t looking for it. I literally stumbled into it. Anyway, I’m going in to try and find her. If I’m not back within an hour of sending this, call for backup. I’m at a place called ‘Villa De Cuore Sanguinante’ - it’s in the area with all the abandoned houses. See you later. Hopefully.”  _

 

[Sent: Four hours ago.]

 

The message hadn’t even reached completion before Shouta was grabbing under the desk for his goggles and refastening the capture weapon around his neck, heart pounding so loudly that he was sure Kal could hear it outside of his chest. Kuro was in danger - because of him. Because he’d pushed her far enough that she had gone off alone. Guilt was eating him alive as he began to make his way out the door.   
  
“Where the hell are you going?” Kal demanded, matching his pace with a little difficulty given the height difference.    
  
Not even looking at her, he responded, “To go and get her, where else would I be going?”   
  
“I’m going with you.”    
  
“Like hell you are. I’m not explaining to the police why there’s a violent ex-vigilante hanging around on an already over-complicated case. Don’t argue, it’ll only waste time.” Time Kuro might not have.   
  
He heard the pounding of her footsteps stop, and for a moment everything was silent, until…  
  
“Fuck you, Eraserhead! You think you’re the only one freaking out about this?! She might be your girlfriend, but Kuro is my best friend, and I’m not gonna let your whole hypocritical ‘high and mighty pro-hero’ bullshit stop me from helping to get her back.”    
  
Turning to face her again, the first thing out of his mouth was, “She’s not my girlfriend--”, which was promptly cut off by another glare from Kal. There was something in the way that she spoke - a conviction hiding untold amounts of anxiety - that he knew all too well. Something like understanding passed between them for a moment, before he sighed and returned to his previous pace. Just as he was reaching the door, he turned behind him slightly.    


  
“Go get Mic, then. Nemuri too, if you can find her. If we’re going to do this, we're going to do it properly.”

 

Maybe Kuro had been right - one extra person could be the difference between life and death. And Shouta was determined not to take that chance.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH BOY WE'RE FINALLY GETTING TO THE CLIMAX!! 
> 
> Before I get to the chapter, Im putting in a quick shoutout to @Wh1teNo1ze for guessing the identity of Mother before anyone else. More credits will follow in later chapters, bc there are so many people I want to thank for helping me and supporting me along the way. 
> 
> But in general, thank you guys for being such an amazing audience - I honestly didn't think this story would get more than a few readers, but now it has over 1,400 hits and 112 Kudos; you've all made me so happy with your comments and reactions and I genuinely could not have done this without you!
> 
> Anyway, on to the story!

Pain. Dull, aching pain throbbed at the side of Akane’s head as she slowly drifted into consciousness. Had she hit her head while she was sleeping? Ugh, that would be a pain to work with today. Only when her eyes flickered open to reveal a room filled with dusty toys and moth-eaten carpet did the panic begin to set in. Trying to stand up from where she was seated, she realised with a stab of fear that she was tied to the chair by her wrists. Memories came in flashes, like stills from a film; an abandoned house, a dust-covered portrait, Chiyoh sitting in the middle of a rotting bedroom, something hitting her in the head. Eyes. 

Bright green eyes that were now right in front of her. 

Recognition hit her slower than it should have, although she wasn’t sure if that was because she was suffering from concussion or because the person they belonged to looked totally different from when Akane had last seen her. 

“... Fukuhara?”

It felt as though her voice hadn’t been used in years. Croaky and soft, she was surprised when she saw the gaze of the social worker actually flitted upwards to meet her own, a sickly imitation of a smile pulling at her features. 

“Oh! Kuramoto! You’re awake! That’s good- very good. I was worried I had hit you just a little too hard!”

The chirp in her words seemed so totally out of line with her appearance that it was disconcerting. In the past, Kuro had noticed that the brunette woman with striking eyes tended to take a great deal of care in how she looked - never a hair out of place. Sitting in front of her now was someone who looked as though they were minutes away from death’s door - a waxy pallor across her skin and wide, manic eyes darting every which way gave the impression of a skittish animal. Disheveled hair was still tied into a bun, but the precision it was usually performed with was gone, instead leaving a tangled and messy knot that only added to the overall image of unhinged agitation. Kuro might have had a concussion, but she wasn’t blind to what was right in front of her. 

“You… you’re Mother, aren’t you? You brainwashed all those children… had them attack people… kidnapped Chiyoh… why?” Beneath her words was a sense of betrayal; she had trusted this woman, believed her to have Chiyoh’s best interests at heart - had she missed the signs? Had it been that obvious? 

If Fukuhara had noticed her anxiety, she gave no sign of it. Instead, she laughed at the question as though it were the best joke she had ever heard. 

“Attack people? I never had them attack people- those, they weren’t people. Scum of the earth,” she spat, “my children- my children found the ones from their old lives who beat them down; school teachers and neighbours and parents who told them they would never amount to anything. Stole their potential before they had a chance to use it, destroyed their lives. We- we showed them what the consequences of their actions were. You understand, don’t you?” Near translucent emerald eyes stared at her, instability swirling beneath them. “You understand what it is to be shunned because you had the misfortune to be born with the wrong quirk, don’t you? To be an outcast from society for something outside of your control? You understand, don’t you, Kuro-chan?”

Hearing the endearment Chiyoh had given her from the mouth of this madwoman was almost sickening, but what was even more discomforting was how similar Fukuhara’s sentiments were to her own - there were too many times where she had lamented the judgemental nature of society towards the quirks children developed, too many times where she wished she could make things different. But this? To gravitate towards violence in protest of a society that assumed violence was all these children would amount to? She couldn’t understand what the green-eyed woman in front of her was trying to achieve.

“And Chiyoh?” Kuro asked, “Her father loves her dearly - he would make sure she was safe and reach every goal she makes. Why take her from that?”

“Because,” she gave a childish tilt of the head, “You told me to, Kuro-chan.”

Resisting the urge to throw up was now on the top of Akane’s priorities. She had told her to do it? Her mind harked back to the conversation they had shared in the police precinct, the advice now seeming to take on a more sinister meaning. Fukuhara continued to ramble on, steadily growing more and more distressed. 

“No, no, no! Chiyoh’s father wouldn’t know how to take care of her - not like I would! He would get scared of her quirk and put her away. Put her away like they put Hanako away- I can’t let that happen- I can’t let them do it again. Not again!” 

Something was beginning to make sense in Akane’s mind, bringing her memory back again to that portrait in the hallway. Two young girls, identical in everything from face to dress to bedroom. 

“Hanako… she was your sister, wasn’t she?” Her question seemed to remind Fukuhara of her presence, looking up suddenly with a lucid sadness in her face. 

“She was more than my sister… she was my other half. The other part of my quirk. I took injuries in one way, and she channeled them out the other. We were two parts of a whole, but people could only see the part that inflicted pain, even if it was because she got it from me… They locked her up, you see. In a hospital, because they were scared of what she’d do. She died there. She died because mother and father took her away from me. That can’t happen to Chiyoh - it can’t! You get it right?” She gazed at Kuro imploringly, “You could help me, Kuro-chan! You could be one of my children, too?”

Sympathy twinged at the outskirts of Kuro’s mind; the death of Fukuhara’s sister had obviously destroyed her - it had probably turned her into the unhinged shell that she was today. Nobody should have to go through that, especially not at the orders of their own parents. But whether it was the remaining drowsiness or the fact that the woman before her just seemed so pitiful, she somehow could not bring herself to lie. 

 

“I’m sorry, Fukuhara, but I can’t… this isn’t the way you change things. You must know that.” 

Her entire face dropped, her expression now blank and unreadable. “I’m sorry, too, Kuro-chan… I’m sorry you can’t see how important this is, but I’m sure you’ll understand why I need to do this,” from beneath her jacket, the emerald-eyed fiend withdrew a long, serrated knife, instantly recognisable to Kuro as a replica of the one she had been stabbed with. Stalking towards her with a wide, apologetic smile, Fukuhara placed the knife at the base of her throat. Softly, she murmured, “I hope Eraserhead will miss you. Maybe if I take something from him, he’ll understand why I’m doing this.”

She couldn’t even let herself swallow for fear of bringing her fate faster than it was already coming. Cold metal bit into her skin ever so slightly, picking up small beads of blood on the edge of the blade. Shit. Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to cry. Actually, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t even particularly scared. Just… sad. Sad that she would never get to make things right with Shouta, or help Chiyoh. Unless a miracle happened, she would die with a bloody gash in her throat. Was it normal, to accept that fact so readily?

That miracle came in the form of a crash from downstairs, and then screams. White tendrils of a smoky substance began to seep under the door, and Fukuhara put the knife away with lightning speed. 

“Oh, dear - it looks like I’m needed downstairs! Pesky heroes, always showing up at the most inconvenient of moments!” 

Akane’s sigh of relief was cut short by seeing Fukuhara attach what looked like some kind of gas mask to her face and starting to walk out the door, before turning around to look at her, eyes glimmering with a kind of excitement that seemed unsuited to the situation she was going out to face. 

“I wouldn’t breathe too much, if I were you! The gas that Ryoku makes is poisonous, and I want you to die slowly.” 

The door now closed, Kuro was left alone, tied to a chair and watching the milky white gas begin to rise. It had yet to reach her position at the corner of the room, or get high enough for her to inhale, but time was running out. Despite her previous resignation, now that she knew people were coming for her, there was a burst of determination reaching down into the pit of her stomach. She had to live. If not for herself, then for the others, so that they wouldn’t have risked their lives to rescue a corpse. 

Think. There had to be a way. If she was wearing her costume, then the blades in her knuckles would have cut her free easily, but with the short notice she had on the house there was no such luck to be had. The gas had reached just above her ankles now, and was rising faster than she would have liked. It wasn’t until she felt the cool pressure of the gas against the hole in her shoe that she began to think of something - most of her shoe was made of leather, but there was a metal tag at the bottom of the heel; if she was lucky, maybe some of Chiyoh’s quirk had made its way there. Arching her back and angling her hands downwards, she began to feel around for where the back of her feet were lifted up. This was her best shot, there had to be--

“Fucking hell!” 

Searing pain lanced through her fingertips, as if there was some kind of acid being poured onto them. In the midst of her hissed curses, she felt herself grin. Scooping what she could of the rot onto her hand on the junction between her thumb and forefinger, she began to smear it onto the cloth bindings around her wrists. Agony was the only way to describe how she was feeling - the sense of being eaten away by something would have been unbearable if it weren’t for the fact that if she didn’t get through it she’d be dead in five minutes. Tugging periodically at the restraints, she couldn’t help letting out a whoop of joy when they finally came undone. The euphoria at being free was quickly overtaken by the burning in her hands, and she quickly rushed to wipe the mould off onto whatever surface was nearest, only stopping when she could no longer see deep orange on her skin. Now, all that remained of the stuff was a bloody dip in her hand, blackened around the edges and a hint of bone showing at the side. Fuck. 

Adrenaline was keeping her from collapsing out of pain, but that could only go on for so long. Before that wore off, she needed to find Chiyoh and get the hell out. Gas was swirling around her waist now, and she realised that she would need to find something to at least mitigate the effect of it. Practically tearing off her sweater, she tied part of it over her nose and mouth by the sleeves, leaving her with only a t-shirt for protection.

Now that was out of the way, it was time to move. 

The hallway was in chaos. Although she could no longer see anybody, there was fire and gas and God knew what else all congregating around her, painting a scene of destruction. Only when she passed her own reflection in a hallway mirror did she realise that her own quirk had started to activate, the unnatural eyes that projected nightmares into the world were now scattered across her forehead and upper body. Strangely, though, she wasn’t scared.

She had faced death and won - what more was there to be afraid of?

This was the second floor, by the look of it; through the cracks in a boarded up window, the distance from the ground was visible. Chiyoh had been on the third when Kuro had found her - she could only hope that was still true, and that the gas had yet to rise to that height. 

Purpose drove her down the hall, searching through the haze of poison mist for the staircase. Beyond her, she saw a child no more than fifteen, standing with legs apart and arms outstretched, some kind of spinning circular blades protruding from the sides of their limbs. 

She had no time for obstacles.

Her footsteps fell silently against the carpeted floor, stopping directly in front of the child. He could attack her if he wanted, but the calm with which she walked was intimidating in its contrast with the hellscape around them. Brown eyes closed, leaving only red and black to stare in unblinking focus and the impossibly dark shadows taking shape around her. Fear was in the air, and this time, it wasn’t hers. Her voice was unnatural in it’s echo, seeming to emanate from all sides like the voice of God. And it only said one thing:

 

“Run.”

 

When she opened her regular eyes again, the child was gone. 

Continue. Keep going, even though the gas had reached her face and was burning its way down her nostrils and throat. Left. Right. Just keep walking until you get to the stairs. The flames and screams melted away around her, leaving only the path she was to follow. She didn’t hear the crackling of the ceiling beam above her, or notice the shaking of the walls supporting it. Only when it fell and she was somehow several feet away from where she had been did she even see the danger she had been in. A familiar feeling of fabric around her waist was the first clue to what had happened, the second being the slight scratch of stubble against her skin, and a low voice right by her ear that she now knew almost as well as her own.

“I think that’s the second time I’ve had to pull you out of trouble like that.”


	42. Chapter 42

In any other situation, having Kuro pressed so close to him would have been more than distracting, but with everything that had happened, the only emotion Shouta’s body seemed able to process was relief. He had found her. He had found her, and she was safe. Behind the sweater she had tied around her mouth to keep the fumes out, Akane’s eyes widened as she whipped around to face him.    


  
“Shouta!” even with the chaos around them, the relief with which she said his name was gratifying, to say the least. “Shouta, I’m so sorry for what I said, I didn’t think about it and I--” coughing weakly, her sentence remained unfinished and sent another pang of worry through his system - how long had she been breathing in the gas? It had only reached his nose and mouth a few minutes ago, which he was able to mitigate somewhat with the capture weapon, but she was a good deal shorter than he was - who knew what havoc that stuff had caused her system.

 

“It’s fine, Akane. I’m sorry, too. We can talk about this later.” He soothed, pulling a water bottle from his utility belt and offering it to her. “Drink this, it’ll help flush out the toxins for a while. I can take you downstairs after that; Kal and Nemuri are clearing out the lower floors, and Mic’s waiting outside with the police.” The protective instinct still hadn’t gone away - even if he knew she would never agree, he had to offer. 

 

Meeting his eyes with a glare, she shook her head. “No. Chiyoh’s still here up on the third floor, I think - we need to get her before the gas does.”   


  
Her hand reached up to take the bottle, and his stomach dropped. Angry red flesh glared from the junction of her hand, bloody and raw - around the edges of the wound, blackened skin gave the impression of charring and he could have sworn he saw the bloodstained white of bone. Trying and failing to keep the fear from his voice, he blurted, “Kuro, your hand!”

 

With a nonchalance that did nothing to alleviate his concern, she glanced down at the injury. “Oh, right. I had to burn through the bindings Fukuhara put me in using Chiyoh’s rot,” she shrugged, “putting it on my skin was the only way to get it in contact with the rope. C’mon, we gotta go.” Logically, Shouta knew that she wouldn’t have done it if there was another option, but the urge to chastise her for harming herself without a second thought was strong in his mind. About to open his mouth to say so, he realised that Kuro had already begun to walk down the hallway away from him. 

 

Ash and debris from the falling beam he had saved her from had cut off the way to the main staircase, but the conviction on her face as she weaved through the passages of the burning mansion spoke of her determination to reach the child she had come in after. Matching pace with her, he found his hand wrapped tightly around her own uninjured one - had she done that, or had he? Either way, there was a strange sense of comfort found in the contact. The house around them seemed embroiled in its own miniature apocalypse, but the sensation of her skin pressed against his own was grounding in a way he didn’t currently have the presence of mind to understand. 

 

“You said that Fukuhara is the one behind all of this?” He murmured, pressing the capture weapon closer around his face.    
  
Despite the long drinks she was taking, Kuro’s voice was raspy and pained when she answered with a nod. “I… I should have seen the signs, Shouta… should have figured it out earlier.” Guilt laced the edge of every one of her words, turning back to look sadly at him. 

 

Reaching up on impulse to brush a stray hair from her face, he squeezed her hand slightly. “It’s not your fault - I didn’t see it, either. That’s not something you should be thinking about right now,” he looked up, realising that one of the doors in the hall in front of them was swung open, revealing a set of stairs that looked to be intended for use by servants in the house’s heyday. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he pointed to the doorway. “Kuro, look. There’s a way up through there.”

 

Even on the third floor of the building where the gas had yet to take hold, he could feel her body getting weaker. Her steps were starting to slow, and her breathing seemed more laboured with every inhalation. Time was running out. Forcing down the rising panic in his stomach, he let her lead him down the hallway until they reached a door opening onto a child’s bedroom. Chancing a look at Akane’s face, his eyes landed on her just in time to see the defeated expression dawning on it.    
  
“I… they were meant to be here…” the room was empty, but the scuff marks on the carpet and disturbed dust patterns spoke of recent activity. Evidently, she had been right when she said that Chiyoh was being kept here, but her information was out of date by one painful fraction. Pulling her closer to him, as much to keep her body upright as to comfort her, he was going to reply when a small voice behind them startled him as much as Kuro.    
  
“They went up to the roof.” 

 

Upon turning, his eyes landed on a boy and girl with light purple hair and pale eyes, looking at the two adults with a mixture of fear and hope. The boy spoke again, muttering, “She took the little girl to the roof. We don’t want to live with Mother anymore; she scares us. Can you take us home?”

 

Crouching down to eye level, Aizawa pointed to the stairs they had come up. “Go down there and keep going. Don’t breathe any more than you absolutely need to. When you get out, the police will take you home, okay?” When the boy nodded, he stood up again and watched as the two children followed his instructions, hurrying down the stairwell. From beside him, Kuro muttered weakly,   
  
“You handled that really well… I hope they make it out alright.”    
  
Not risking letting her see his expression of worry, he nodded and began to gently tug her forwards towards the rooftop stairs the twins had gestured to. At this point, he was almost carrying her with how much she was leaning on him to make her way up. Part of him considered leaving her and getting to Fukuhara himself, but the fear that the gas would reach up to the third floor before he could retrieve her was too strong to give in. Besides, if they were going up into the fresh air, it was possible that she might be able to breathe easier there.    
  
To an extent, he was right. The first breath of chill night air seemed to reinvigorate the woman beside him slightly, her dependence on his physical support lessening. The relief was short lived. In front of them, Fukuhara was standing near the edge of the building, holding the hand of a teary-eyed and close to hyperventilating Chiyoh in a deathgrip. Manic eyes darted between the two of them, taking yet another step backwards.    
  
“Kuro-chan~ You’re supposed to be dead by now!” The woman sang, the edge to her voice enough to send shivers down even Aizawa’s spine. He had known that the social worker had tried to kill Akane, but hearing her so casual, even gleeful about it, made him see red at the corners of his vision. 

 

From beside him, he could feel Kuro shift slightly, though not letting go of his hand. A tired smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, not reaching her eyes. “Yeah well… I lived. It’s time to let Chiyoh go, Fukuharu - you must know you won’t be able to keep her like this. There are police waiting at the bottom, and a bunch of other pros on their way up.”

 

Wide, childish eyes stared at them with a sickly grin. “Oh, but I beg to differ! I can keep Chiyoh forever, if I want to. We can stay together forever! All it takes is a little drop~” her gaze darted down to the yard below them. Bile rose in his stomach as he realised exactly what she was planning. Could the capture weapon grab Chiyoh in time? By now, she was practically dangling the child on the ledge, so close to falling that a light gust of wind could push her over.   
  
Pressure around his hand drew his gaze to the side, glancing at Kuro who had a look of complete focus settled on her face. Not breaking her stare at Fukuharu, she muttered softly, “When I give the signal, catch her.” 

 

Before he had the chance to ask what she meant, she was speaking at normal volume. “Fukuharu, do you think this is what Hanako would have wanted for you? To try and kill a child because you’re so lonely without her? Wouldn’t your sister want you to have moved on and lived a life that didn’t depend on her?” She was using her therapist voice, but something in the delivery seemed… off. He had seen her speak to people in that tone before, but this time there was very little beneath the surface to add sincerity to her words. Fukuhara, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice at all. In fact, she seemed to only become more agitated.    
  
“Shut  _ up! _ You don’t know what you’re talking about! Only I understand Hanako, only I can say what she wants! You don’t get it, Kuro-chan!” Venom was spat with every word, crazed glare only furthering her look of utter bereavement. 

 

A neutral calm was spread over the entirety of Akane’s face, until he saw the ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth and her natural eyes flickering closed.   
  
“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

 

The telltale black smoke began to billow from around her, the soft glow of the red and black eyes beginning to increase their intensity until it was near blinding to look directly at. This wasn’t like the other times he had seen her use her quirk - here, there was no shaking or crying, no fear at all. Only total certainty. The mist was starting to take shape, twisting and fuming into an apparition about up to his chest in height with no defining features, until… 

 

“Hanuka..?” 

 

A voice he had never heard before spoke from the fumes, and then there was a girl in a hospital gown standing in front of them. Tangles of brown hair the exact shade of Fukuhara’s stuck out in tufts at all angles, bloody tatters marring the synthetic fabric covering her body. On wobbly legs, the creature began to make its way towards the social worker, who had an expression on her face that could only be described as absolute terror.    
  
“Ha- Hanako…” she murmured, looking as though a ghost had appeared in front of her. In a way, he supposed it had.  “Hanako, is that you?”

 

Stumbling forward, Akane’s imitation of Fukuhara’s nightmare began to reach out for her sister. “Hanu… you abandoned me… left me to rot in that place… why would you do that to me, sister?”   
  
“No! I didn’t! I was trying to help! I was trying to--” A terrified scream came from both Fukuhara and Chiyoh, as the ledge gave way to thin air beneath them at the madwoman’s step backwards to back away from her nightmare. For a moment, everything appeared to stand still in its place, frozen like statues.    
  
“Shouta, NOW!”

 

He didn’t even have to wait for the signal before the capture weapon had shot out to grab the child, pulling her forwards and stumbling into him. Sobs filled the air, but there could be no words. Only when a muffled ‘thud’ came from the ground beneath them did the reality of the situation sink in. Had Kuro planned this? He turned towards her, only to see her staring blankly at the place where Fukuhara had been only seconds before.    
  
“It was just meant to scare her enough to distract her…” 

 

Her hand was trembling in the grip of his own, her entire body seeming to react to what she had just done. Accidental deaths were an unfortunate occupational hazard, but this was something more. If Shouta knew anything about Kuro, it was that she placed value on human life no matter how badly spent it had been. Fukuhara had been bad, even insane, but death was something that not even she deserved. Instinctually, he pulled her closer to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder and running his hands through her hair.    
  
“It’s okay. You’re okay. Chiyoh’s safe, and you’re safe. That’s all that matters right now.” Questions remained unanswered in his head, but he could save them for another time.   
  
“I- I guess… and you’re safe, too, Shouta. That’s important too--”   
  


A coughing fit wracked her body suddenly. Looking down, he realised that specks of blood had come out with it. Adrenaline only lasted for so long, and it seemed that the effect of the gas was starting to become apparent. The threat of Fukuhara now dealt with, the only priority he had right now was getting Kuro help. When she collapsed against him, he was ready to catch her. Lifting her up gently so that part of her was resting over his shoulder and her legs were looped around his waist, he turned to the black-haired child who was clinging to his hand like it was the last thing between her and oblivion.   
  
“Let’s get Kuro-chan home.”

 

  
For those standing outside on the lawn of the old Fukuhara mansion, the scene had been eerily quiet for some time now. Midnight had taken most of the children out of the house, Kal ‘neutralising’ the ones who wouldn’t co-operate until they had the entire makeshift ‘family’ of the unmasked Fukuhara Hanuka sitting in shock blankets, watching dimly as the ensemble waited for the last people to come out. For everyone on the rescue mission, watching the door became a nerve-wracking task. Eraserhead could take care of himself, but what about the woman he’d gone in after? What about the girl they had been searching for? The child who had produced the gas - the child who had started the entire investigation, in fact, was forthcoming in her admission that the gas was toxic if exposed to the airway for too long. But how long was too long? 

 

After what seemed like hours, the creaking of old wood alerted everyone from their near-trance state of waiting. Walking down the front steps in slow, deliberate movements was a man with black hair and tired eyes, holding the hand of the young girl who’s missing posters had been going up around the area in a flurry of paper trails. But what grabbed the attention of anyone who had any idea what had transpired in the last few hours was the woman he was carrying, a mess of blonde hair and weak coughs that he held like precious goods, refusing to allow anyone near her until he had placed her on the ambulance trolley himself. He spoke to no-one except the medics asking for her status, eyes fixed solely on her limp form. Her gas inhalation had been severe, but as it turned out, his had not been much better. Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be ushered into the vehicle beside her, though not taking the offer of a trolley.    
  
Those who knew him as Eraserhead would have said that perhaps he was in shock. People who called him Aizawa thought that he was maintaining a sense of stoicism as a way to force normalcy into a situation beyond his control. But a select few - those who knew him just as Shouta - knew the truth; he was keeping watch over her. Standing guard for a woman who had entered his life by storm and nearly exited it the same way. He was staying by her side because he had nearly lost her and was terrified that if he left, it would happen again. Those people were the ones who knew, perhaps even before he did, that Kuramoto Akane was the one thing in his life that meant more to him than being a hero. 

 

Because if he couldn’t save her, then what was the point in saving anyone?


	43. Chapter 43

Consciousness came and went like waves on a shoreline, images and noises occasionally coming into focus before swimming back into black. She was being carried out the door by strong arms that held her steady, the low huff of breath in her ear. She was in an ambulance, emergency responders talking overhead in words she couldn’t understand. She was turning her head to the side, and caught a glimpse of black hair hung low over a pallid face and sleepless eyes illuminated by red and blue, the sounds of the road and the nurses around her seeming to fade into the background when their gazes met. A gentle tap on her shoulder from someone whose face she could not see, and a mask was being placed over her nose and mouth and. Drowsiness took hold yet again with every breath she took. As she faded back into the abyss, the last thing on her conscious mind before darkness swallowed her whole was the look of tired worry she had seen on the face of the man beside her who had yet to let go of her hand.

 

Black consumed her vision, even when she awoke. Though she tried to will her eyes open, there was a weakness in every command she gave her body that fell just short of being able to follow through. Sightless for the time being, Akane began to hone in on her other senses; the most noticeable of which was the tactile sensations across her body. She was lying on her back, the bed beneath her hard and unyielding to the contours of her figure. There was something in her arm, which was outstretched beside her. Although the pain had long given way to the dull ache of bruised flesh with some sort of needle placed at her vein. Breathing hurt, as though a 50-tonne weight was lying across her chest. Hearing came back to her next, the shrill, incessant sound of a computer monitor at her left side, drilling at her mind in throbbing constancy. Above that, there were voices. At first, it was as though they were speaking in an alien tongue, but as she listened longer, placed more of her focus on the buzz of vocals echoing across tiles, her vocabulary began to return to her in bits and pieces.

 

“... vitals … stable … in a day or so … any later … dead ...”

 

She didn’t recognise the voice speaking at that moment, but even in the foggy outreach of her mind she could start stitching together what she could pick up from the muffled words. How long had she been out for? She remembered so little of what had happened after she brought forth Fukuhara’s nightmare and the social worker had…

 

_ Oh. _

 

Realisation hit her at the exact moment she heard a door close somewhere in the room and footsteps down the hallway. Was she alone now? Wait, no, there were still people speaking in hushed tones above her. Straining her ears to listen, more and more of the conversation was becoming understandable.    
  
“How do we explain … to her family?”

There was the sound of movement beside her, the next voice suddenly seeming closer than she had initially thought.   
  
“... doesn’t really talk … … tell them in her own time … once she gets released.”

 

She knew that voice. Images of a freckled face and an impish smiles pushed to the front of her mind; memories of getting helped up from a sparring mat, of dumb jokes and laughing until her sides hurt. Memories of… 

 

“Kal…?”   
  
This time her eyes obeyed her command, opening to see a grey-and-white hospital room that looked as though it had been painted in monochrome, two figures on opposite sides of the room the only source of colour. In a plastic chair beside her, her friend’s attention had been snapped to where Akane had spoken, staring in disbelief for a second before breaking into a wide grin. 

 

“Kuro! You’re awake!” The delight on Kal’s face was enough to bring a weak smile to her own. “The doctor said it would be at least a couple of hours until you regained consciousness!”    
  
“Well, you know me… always exceeding expectations.” She tried for a wry smile that probably looked more of a grimace, looking around the room to face Hizashi. The radio hero had his hair down today, tied haphazardly into a low ponytail - in his civilian clothes without the armour of his larger-than-life radio persona, worry was etched clearly into his face until he heard Akane’s voice, breaking into a relieved grin.   
  
“Kuro, dude! Try and give some warning next time you decide to run headfirst into danger - I had to put an intern in charge of the station and lemme tell you, their taste in music is probably worse than anything I’ve come across in  _ years. _ ” He shuddered for effect. In spite of his quip, it was clear he was glad to see her up and, well, not quite about, but it was something.    
  
Groaning, she attempted to sit up in bed, needing to rearrange a few pillows around her until she could support herself. “Ugh… No promises.” Lifting an arm, she went to rub at her eyes before stopping short at the sight of her bandaged hand and an IV drip in her arm. “Shit. What happened? What did the doctor say about the rot damage?” 

 

Kal shrugged. “Healable, but with that and all the gas you took in, you gotta stay here for at least another day so they can monitor you.” She glanced at the clock on the wall adjacent to her, reading at a quarter to ten. “You’ve been here overnight, but you should get let out tomorrow.”   
  
Nodding, she looked down at her hospital-gown clad legs, covered partly by the thin blanket around her knees as she tried to think what else she had to ask about. There was an ambulance, she remembered that much. She had been drifting in and out at that point, but even through the fog she could recall a few things; paramedics testing her vitals, telling her to breath, a hand around her own, and…   
  
“Shouta!” She said suddenly, eyes wide. “Is he okay? And Chiyoh, did they get her back with her dad?” She could feel as well as hear her heart-rate rising on the monitor, until she felt Kal place a hand on her shoulder gently.    
  
“Kuro, relax. Chiyoh’s fine - a bit traumatised, probably, but she didn’t get gassed up or anything. And Shouta…” she pursed her lips, “Well, he’s here too - in hospital, I mean.” seeing her friend’s panicked expression, she added quickly, “It’s nothing serious, don’t worry. He took in a lot of the gas too, but like I said, that’s healable really quickly. He’ll get out around the same time as you, and we checked in on him earlier and he’s doing fine.”

 

Forcing her breathing back to normal, Kuro nodded. “That’s… that’s good, I guess. I hope the class behaves while he’s gone.” Knowing them, of course they wouldn’t, but a woman could only hope. Shouta deserved that much, at least. At her mention of Shouta’s students, Yamada perked up from his position on the wall.    
  
“Oh man, I can’t believe I nearly forgot! The kids made you this in class,” He walked over to her, pulling something made of paper out of his back pocket and handing it to her. Taking it from him gently, she looked down to see a hand-drawn picture of a small, orange cat on a piece of A4 paper, folded in half to make a card. Written in English above the drawing was the phrase,  _ ‘hope you’re  _ _ feline _ _ better!’ _ , a small heart scribbled beside it.

 

On opening the card, there were numerous messages written in pens of all sorts, all wishing her a speedy recovery. Midoriya’s loose writing jumped out immediately, along with one from Uraraka written in pink gel pen, and an elegant swirling style that she didn’t even have to look at the signature to know it belonged to Momo. Even Bakugou had written one, although his wasn’t as touchingly heartfelt as some of the others. In cheap red pen, he had scrawled, ‘ _ get better soon, old lady, because I can’t finish the dumb discipline program if you aren’t here with your psychology bullshit.’  _

 

Strangely enough, it was that addition that had her tearing up. Wiping them away quickly, she looked up at Hizashi with a huge grin. “This is amazing, ‘Zashi! Did Mido-kun do the drawing? It looks great!” She said, hoping she didn’t sound too choked up.

 

The blonde returned her smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, he did. Pretty cool, huh? I helped with the pun, though - wordplay in English is a little too advanced for those pipsqueaks.”   
  
Laughing, she nodded. “It looks great! Tell them thank you from me, okay? I’ll tell them myself when I go back, but they should know as soon as possible.”   
  
Next to her, Kal stood up and ruffled the top of her head, seemingly relishing being the tall one for once. “Will do! We should probably head back now, anyway, and let you get some rest. We’ll be back tomorrow to help you get back, right Mic?” 

 

The blonde man nodded, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. “We left you some snacks on the bedside table, too - having to eat hospital food is like, almost worse than actually being in hospital.”    
  
With a final hug from Kal, the door was closed behind them. 

 

The rest of the day wasn’t too bad, considering she was stuck in bed for it. Reading and surfing the web on her laptop that Kal had dropped off kept her occupied for the most part, and the nurses would come in to check her hourly so she could get progress reports. At around three, they took out her IV and re-dressed her bandages. It still hurt to breathe, but by dinner time, she was starting to be able to get up and walk around her room.    
  
Nighttime fell, and although the activity of the hospital hallways became thinner and thinner, until eventually the lights were turned out altogether, sleep didn’t come. Counting sheep didn’t work (not that it ever had,) and even when she put a pillow over her head and kept her eyes closed for at least an hour, nothing happened. No matter what she did, her mind kept coming back to the image of Fukuhara, shaking and afraid, taking the final step backwards over the ledge of the building. She had done that. Fukuhara’s blood was on her hands. Strangely enough for her, as the kind of person who tended to bottle things up until they exploded in a molotov cocktail of ugly emotions, the urge to talk to someone about it was stronger than she had ever felt it. 

  
Texting Kal was a possibility, she supposed, but something was stopping her from picking up her phone. Maybe her friend would understand once she knew the details, but giving voice to the events that were replaying in her mind seemed like it would only cause more pain on her part. She had to talk to somebody who already knew what had happened - who had seen it with their own eyes.    
  
Her body was standing outside his door, but she had no memory of getting up or even looking for it. Frozen, she realised that she didn’t even know if he was awake - what if she interrupted the sleep he so obviously needed? Half turning away to head back to her own room down the hall, Kuro nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the door creak open.    
  
“Akane? What is it?” 

 

Shouta was standing in the doorway, looking at her curiously. Strangely, there was no annoyance in his eyes whatsoever.    
  
“O-oh! Shouta!” she turned back to him, face heating up. “I-I’m sorry for waking you. I was just… I, um…” 

 

“You couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question, but his voice was soft enough that she wasn’t afraid of his bluntness. “And you didn’t wake me. Don’t worry.”    
  
Staring down at the floor, she muttered softly, “Yeah… I don’t know, I guess I’m still just processing everything.”    
  


Wordlessly, he moved from his spot in the doorway and placed a hand around her shoulder, guiding her to sit on the edge of his own bed. Pulling his hand away to join her, they sat in silence for a while. It was almost startling when he spoke quietly from beside her, “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? What happened to Fukuhara. You did what you could, given the circumstances. Her death was an unfortunate outcome, but one that ultimately does not reflect on you at all.”    
  
Analytically, she knew he was right. Emotionally, however, there was something in her that found that hard to accept. “I know, I know,” she sighed, “I just… I can’t help thinking that if I could have done things differently, it would have been different.”    
  
Aizawa had a slight far-off look in his eyes when he responded, “I understand. But focusing on the past too much means that you forget to look into the future. You can only learn from your mistakes if you put them in a new context rather than obsessing over the original one. It’s not going to happen again, so why beat yourself up over it?”    
  
His certainty was reassuring in a way she couldn’t place; the way he said it made it seem so simple, as though he knew without question that she would not fall into the same trap twice. Gently, she leaned her head on his shoulder, the sudden need for contact overcoming her inhibitions for a fraction of a second. He tensed up at first, but visibly relaxed after a second.    
  
“I  _ am _ sorry, you know,” she muttered, “about what I said at the daycare. That was horrible of me, and I should have thought it through.”    
  
To her surprise, she saw his mouth twitch into a small smile. “What did I just say about dwelling on the past? But for the record, I’m sorry too; I should have listened to what you were saying rather than let my emotions get the better of me. I was unfair to you, and it ended up putting you in danger.” She felt his fists clench against the sheets at his last admission, and instinctively placed her hand over the top of the one closest to her. For all the talk of not blaming herself for things that had already happened, he was pretty clearly feeling guilty about letting things escalate the way that they had.    
  
“I think I did a pretty good job of putting myself in danger, thank you very much!” she quipped, her heart jumping at his soft chuckle. Silence enveloped them in tandem with the darkness, but it was the kind of comfortable silence that seemed like it could go on forever and nobody would be less for it. However, as nice as it was, a question was pushing at the front of Kuro’s mind that she was finding harder and harder to ignore.    
  
“Do you regret it? The… the stuff we did before? Before we fought, I mean.”    
  
“What, the kiss?” He looked at her in vague amusement, before seeing the expression on her face and sighing. “No. I don’t regret it. At all. It’s just…” he was looking at her, now, something undefinable swirling behind his eyes in the dim light, “there’s a reason almost no Pro Heroes are in long-term relationships. It’s dangerous for everyone involved; villains and others with anti-hero sentiments can use it as a weak spot. And that’s just in general,” he ran a hand through his hair, “in between work and teaching, I don’t know that I could be there enough for you even if I wanted to be. Maybe if things were different, we could keep things casual enough for that to be okay, but…” the intensity of his stare was almost disconcerting, but she found that she couldn’t look away, “you deserve better than that, Akane. Better than me.”

 

The finality in his tone broke her heart slightly, but his words… she couldn’t let them go unaddressed. Quietly, she muttered from beside him, “Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I deserve?” 

  
Something like shock registered on his features, though he stayed silent as she continued.    
  
“You say that there are reasons that pros don’t get into relationships, right? Well, there are reasons I haven’t really had many, either. I’ve got baggage of my own, and for most of my life, that’s stopped me from getting close to anyone, even my own parents. But with you, I don’t know, it’s like… it’s like there’s somebody who sees me for something other than my quirk, or my job. Like there’s someone who just sees  _ me _ , and for once, that’s all that’s needed. You’ve seen me at my worst, and you stayed. I don’t  _ want _ you to change your life to revolve around me - I don’t mind if you can’t be there all the time, or if sometimes work means that you need to be alone. I don’t want some over-romantacised idea of a perfect relationship. I don’t want that at all. I just want you.” tears were brimming at the corners of her vision, but she couldn’t find the wherewithal to fight them. Her voice was near a whisper when she finished. 

 

“I want a chance with you, Shouta. Whatever that means.”   
  
This time, the silence was anything but comfortable. She wasn’t crying so much as teary-eyed, but the emotions she felt were too numerous to count. Regret, mixed with relief, mixed with hope mixed with fear.  Instead of a molotov cocktail, it was as though someone had made a hole in the bottom of a barrel, and now all her feelings were pouring steadily out until she was drained of everything. Throughout it all, he hadn’t stopped staring at her. At first, he had been looking her in the eyes, dark pupils burning with a fire she had never seen until now, before moving down to her mouth. Out of nervousness at such close inspection as much as anything, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, wetting it slightly. She could have sworn his breath hitched. Slowly, he met her gaze yet again. The sudden murmur of his voice was a shock, but it soon took second place to what he actually said.   
  
“I want to kiss you again.” 

 

Had she heard him correctly? It was tempting to ask for clarification, but the heat of his stare seemed to confirm that, no, she hadn’t misheard. Swallowing dryly, she found that all she could manage in response was a soft, “Please…” 

 

Both of his large hands moved up to cup her face, and he moved in closer ever so slightly, only to hesitate, as though he was waiting for her to make the next move. With the same caution, she leaned upwards towards him, her eyes flickering closed gently. The next thing she knew, there were lips slating across her own. He tasted different from the first time, more sure of his actions. What began as a soft pressing of mouths against each other soon became saturated with a sense of desperation that had her hands moving up into his hair and his body shifting backwards to lean against the pillows of his bed. Kneeling between his legs, she felt rather than heard the groan rising in his throat when she scratched lightly against his scalp, running the inky tresses through her fingertips. It was intoxicating, hearing noises like that from a man usually so calm and unexpressive, but he soon returned the favour by wrapping her own hair around his fingers, tugging slightly and eliciting a whimper from her that he swallowed up eagerly. Soon, it was all limbs and lips and tongues, trying not to break away from each other as he gripped her hips and moved her onto his lap, legs straddling his hips as his knee shifted between her legs. Wandering hands began to snake their way up her the loose shift of her hospital gowns, seeming to relish the shivers she gave at the sensation of his calloused hand brushing along her hips, her stomach, her ribs, her--   
  
“Shit-!”

 

She gasped, wincing as a searing pain shot through her abdomen and chest, triggered by a particularly sharp inhale. Immediately, Shouta drew his hand away, looking at her worriedly.    
  
“Did I hurt you?”

 

Shaking her head vigorously, she replied, “No, no you were great. I just…” suddenly, something about the whole situation seemed ridiculous, and a bubbling laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “We were going to… in the  _ hospital _ , of all places!” she giggled, pressing her forehead gently against his own and looping her hands around his neck to assure him that her sudden halt had nothing to do with him.     
  


“It’s fine, really. The doctors said I had to keep my breathing regular; no strenuous activity for a few weeks. I guess this isn’t exactly conducive to doing that, huh?”    
  
Understanding dawned over his face, followed by a small, amused grin. “No, I guess it’s not. You sure you’re okay?” he asked, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her eyes, melting her heart at the softness behind the gesture.    
  
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Just--” trying and failing to fight back a yawn, she winced slightly at the pain but squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Just tired.” Clambering off his lap, she looked down, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Hey, can I.. can I stay with you? I don’t want to be alone…” She hated how vulnerable she sounded, but the need to have him near her was stronger than it had ever been. For a moment, there was nothing, and she worried she had overstepped some boundary until she felt strong arms around her waist, scooping her up and pushing her under the covers of the admittedly small bed.    
  
“Of course,” he murmured from behind her, the top of his head pressing gently into her hair. Feeling his arms wrapped around her was a new sensation, but one that she realised was more than enjoyable. His slowing breaths brushed over the bare skin of her neck, sending shivers down her spine until she got used to the warmth of it. One arm draped across her stomach, Aizawa’s thumb began to trace languid circles over her hip, the slow rhythm of it lulling her softly downwards.    
  
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to figure out what your tattoo is of…” his voice was muffled against her body, but even through that she could hear the sleepy drawl in his tone. Face flushing slightly, she placed her hand over his, allowing it to lead her fingers across the fabric-clad curve of her hip.    
  
“It’s a heart,” she murmured back, “with watercolour details at the bottom. I’ll show you when it’s light enough to see, if you want…”    
  
“Mm… I’d like that. A lot.” Soft vibrations rippled against her skin as he spoke, but even with the added sensation, she could feel herself slipping under the warm quilt of sleep. Dimly, she noticed that her breathing was now matched up to his, rising and falling in time with each other. The last thing she could remember was smiling softly at the observation, although Shouta couldn’t see it.    
  
Yeah, she could get used to this. 

  
  


The following morning, Kageyama and Hizashi were making their way down the hall for their promised visit, until Kal noticed that the door to Aizawa’s room was slightly ajar. When the two looked in, it took them less than a second to notice that along with the scruffy black hair of the room’s intended inhabitant, the sunlight was also glinting off the golden tresses of the woman they had come to see, freckled face buried in the shoulder of the man next to her. Neither of them appeared to have woken up yet, but when Kuro shifted slightly in her sleep, it only took a second for her partner’s arm to move protectively around her beneath the blankets. Closing the door as gently as they could, the two interlopers stared at each other. 

  
  
“So… should we wake them?” Kal asked, glancing back to the crack in the door. 

  
  
“Nah,” Yamada replied, a slight smile on his face, “let them enjoy it. Besides,” he pulled his phone out and angled it into the room, snapping a photo of the two, 

 

“It’s way more fun if they think they’re being slick about it.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the second last chapter I've got planned for this story, the last being an epilogue. 
> 
> BUT
> 
> I am thinking of doing a little series of ongoing drabbles for various domestic scenarios, as well as having a few ideas for some AUs; if you're interested in reading more of my dumb BS, please let me know in the comments bc your validation has meant so much to me in the past month or so I love you guys so much.

_When Shouta came to the next morning, there was warmth at his fingertips and soft breathing in his ear. Waking up on a regular day was a difficult task in and of itself, but waking up when he appeared to have a full-body hot water bottle wrapped around him was a new level of torturous altogether. Not that he didn’t enjoy the feeling of Akane cuddling up against him, or seeing the early morning sun streaming onto her face until it seemed to be illuminated by the warm glow - in fact, the problem was that he enjoyed it far too much. The lingering reminder in his head that they needed to get up and get Kuro back to her room before her check-up was physically painful. If it was possible, he would have kept her near him, just watching her like this, until someone forced them to break apart. It was a ridiculous thought, but the desire was still there. On instinct, he untangled a hand from the covers and moved to push the stray hairs over her face away and behind her ears - at some point during the night, she had swivelled around to face him, and the look of peace on her face was so utterly endearing it almost hurt his heart._

 

 _Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, chocolate irises meeting his own. He wasn’t smiling, but he hoped the reverence in his eyes would tell her enough about his true feelings. She seemed to take a moment to process the situation, but when she did, the sleep-addled smile on her face was brighter than the sun reflecting off her hair._ _  
_   
_“Mm, good morning…” she murmured, “what time is it?”_

 

 _Her voice was slow and sweet, like molasses being poured into honey. Glancing quickly at the clock on the wall behind her, Shouta couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped when he answered her,_ _  
_   
“Nearly seven. You should go back to your room before the nurses realise you’re gone.” Despite the advice, he was finding it incredibly difficult to move his hand from around her waist, holding her close to him and savouring the contact for as long as he could. 

_Disappointment clouding her features, she was able to pull herself up into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. But she didn’t get up entirely. Instead, she paused for a moment, turning to look back at him. “Hey, you’re still… you’re still okay with this, right? You still want to try and make it work? If you’d rather we just move on, we can--”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“--I’m okay with it.” he cut her off, sitting up to look her in the eyes. “More than okay. I want a relationship with you - I’ve wanted it for a while. But I guess I should ask, do you still want that?” Concern crept in at the end of the statement, but judging by the decisive (if a little frantic) nod of her head, it was unfounded._ _  
_   
“Of course I do! I thought that I made that clear, but, um, maybe I should’ve said it? I don’t really…” 

 

_Almost without realising it, his hands snaked around her middle and held her gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Well then, I guess that’s settled.”_

 

_Although initially freezing on the contact, Shouta heard rather than saw the smile on her face when she replied, “Yeah, I guess it is,”  moving her head to the side to press against his own._

 

 _Finally seeming to have the strength to get up, she stood, stretching her arms above her head with a small groan. “Ugh, I really do have to go now… I’ve got less than ten minutes until the nurse comes around.” At first, she looked to be heading straight towards the door, until she turned on her heel quickly and pressed a small kiss to his lips. Looking up at her, there was an excited grin pulling at her features that he couldn’t help but make a less dramatic mirror of. This was something they could do, now. Not just a fictitious flight of imagination. He could kiss her, and she would kiss him back._ _  
_   
Maybe relationships weren’t as stupid as he used to believe they were.

  
  


Five months had passed, and he had yet to be proven wrong on that hypothesis. Sure, making room for another person in his life had taken some getting used to, and especially in the beginning they had gotten their wires crossed a few times, but in the end, Shouta wouldn’t have traded it for anything. If his life was a jigsaw puzzle, then Kuro was the piece that he hadn’t even realised was missing until he found it. Things were good - better than good, really. And he was fairly certain that the people around them could see it too, even if they never said anything. Their relationship wasn’t secret, _per se_ ; more like an unspoken truth around the other faculty members. Nobody mentioned it, but occasionally he would get texts from Hizashi with thinly-veiled recommendations for cafes or movies, and Kal had yet to cease telling them to ‘get a room!’ whenever they so much as looked at eachother. He was pretty sure even All-Might knew - there had been a point when the Number One Hero had shot him a thumbs-up while he was going over some papers with Akane, and then never spoken about it again. Frankly, he still wasn’t sure how to feel about that one.

 

There were points where he wished they were more open about it - PDA had never been his strong suit, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to want to hold her hand while walking or kiss her when she looked as though she needed it, but both of them had agreed that the longer it took for the students to find out, the better. They would put two and two together someday, but he was determined to savour what he could of their privacy before then. Unfortunately, that day ended up coming faster than anticipated.

  


“Kuro, how long has it been since you actually slept?”   
  
Shouta was leaning against the doorway of her office, watching as his girlfriend (he still got a slight thrill down his spine whenever he called her that, even to himself) organised the papers she had dropped when he had surprised her a few minutes ago. Usually, she wasn’t so easily startled by him, despite the fact that he was unusually silent in how he moved. The last time something like that had happened, it was because she’d been up all the previous night watching one after another of her vintage American films - she had shown a couple to him on previous ‘date-nights’ that were really just lounging about at one of their apartments, and apart from a detective movie she called ‘The Big Sleep’ and one set in World War Two called ‘Casablanca’, he hadn’t exactly seen the appeal; but they meant a lot to her, and he had to admit it was endearing to listen to her ramble on about the various production techniques and Golden Age actors. But even then, seven in one night was just excessive.

 

She glanced back at him as she bent over to pick up a file on the floor, and he had to make himself focus on her words when she answered him, “Only a day or so, it’s fine. I was training for the exam and lost track of time, that’s all.”   
  
Right, the Pro License exam was only a month away. Initially, he had been surprised with how much she had thrown herself into her training considering her reasons for not taking it as a teenager, but with how she had handled herself since the day at the Fukuhara mansion, it became apparent that she was determined not to let herself be caught off-guard like that again. He admired her for it, but he also worried for her when she pulled stuff like that. “You realise that’s not safe, right? You’re only hurting yourself when you lose sleep like that, especially on something so physically draining.”   
  
Kuro gave a soft snort at his admonishment. “Hm, I seem to remember something someone said once about glass houses and throwing stones, babe.” She teased, straightening up and fixing her glasses, “I think that’s the last of them. But I’m fine, Shouta, really. I’ll take a nap as soon as I get home, alright? No need to worry about me.”   
  
Okay, maybe that was true, but that didn’t mean he didn’t do it anyway. “You sure you don’t want to borrow my sleeping bag? I left it on my desk in the staffroom.” He offered, and she draped her arms around his neck in response, pressing her forehead to his with a light smirk.   
  
“Without you in it? I can’t see the point~”  

 

His hand made its way around her waist, pulling her closer affectionately. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve got twenty-four essays to mark and a lesson on legal ramifications of unauthorised quirk usage to look forward to. There’s nothing I’d rather do right now than sleep. ‘Specially if it’s with you.”   
  
The giggle his remark brought from her put a slight smile on his face as she responded, “Well, I don’t wanna be blamed for your negligence, but how about my place after work? We can catch a few hours before you have to go on patrol.”   
  
With his schedule, they had to take what little time they had together as often as possible - spending a couple of hours in the afternoon just enjoying each other’s company was one of the ways that they did so. “I’d like that.” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She smiled against his mouth, getting up onto her tiptoes and seemingly about to move closer in order to deepen it, until an all too familiar voice called at the door.   
  
“Yo! Kuro-sensei, are you--”

 

Both their heads whipped towards the source of the noise in unison, revealing a frozen-in-place Kaminari Denki, who looked as though he had just walked in on his parents doing the nasty. Fuck, they had forgotten to close the door. Aizawa had been so caught off-guard by the intrusion that he wasn’t even able to glare at his student, although that seemed to have no effect on the boy’s expression of shock. Slowly, he began to edge back towards the hallway, though still not able to break away from the two, glancing between them with a hundred-yard stare.   
  
“I’m… I’m just gonna go now. SeeyouinclasssenseipleasedontkillmeBYE!!”   
  
As soon as the echo of footsteps sprinting down the hall disappeared, Kuro burst into laughter, leaning her head on his chest. He was trying to scowl, but the sound of her laugh was too sweet for him to be really irritated. Even so, he batted her head lightly. “Don’t laugh, it’s not funny. I’m never going to hear the end of it from them, now.”

“Come on, Shouta. You have to admit, it is a little funny - he looked so upset!” She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, forcing a reluctant smile onto his face.   


Rolling his eyes, he groaned lowly, “You laugh now, but you aren’t the one who needs to deal with the class when he inevitably tells them.” Speaking of which, the end of lunch bell had gone about five minutes ago - he needed to get back to the classroom and face the music. “I have to go - damage control and all that.” He disentangled himself from their embrace, moving towards the door. “See you tonight.”

 

“Shouta, wait!”

 

He turned back to her with a slight ‘hm?’, only to see her freckle-dusted face smiling brightly with a light blush. “I love you~”

 

Returning her smile slightly, but with as much genuine affection as he felt, he made his way out the door. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

  


Sure enough, the classroom was in chaos before he even walked in. He could hear his student’s voices shouting from down the hall, even being able to pick out a few distinctive ones.

 

“But imagine if they _were_ ! It would be so cute!!” That was Hagakure, for sure, and there was no doubt who she was talking about.   
  
“Tch, whatever. Like I care.” Bakugou. Definitely Bakugou. Midoriya piped up next, confusion evident in his voice.

“But Kacchan, I thought you told us they had to be dating or they wouldn’t be spending so much time together?”  
  
“SHUT UP DEKU, YOU BASTARD!”

  
  
Business as usual, then. When he pushed the door to the classroom open, every single kid fell dead silent, all focused on him. Well, it was now or never. Slouching up to his own desk at the front of the class, he sighed.

  
  
“Alright, no point hiding it anymore. For those of you who somehow managed not to hear whatever it was I just walked into; yes, Kuramoto-sensei and I are in a relationship.”

  
  
And just like that, the class erupted yet again, only silenced by a glare from him. “You get two minutes for questions, and then you will never speak of it again, understood?”

  
  
Kirishima was the first to raise his hand. “How long have you guys been dating?”

“Five months, two weeks and five days.” Yes, he was keeping count. No, he wasn’t going to say why.

  
  
“How long have you liked her for, Aizawa-sensei?” Asked Uraraka.   
  
He shrugged. “Since my third year of high school.” That response led to a wave of tittering amongst the girls, most of which had ‘so cuuute!’ thrown in at least once, until Kaminari blurted out,   
  
“Can we babysit your kids when you have them?!”   
  
“Absolutely not.” Whether or not they had even talked about taking things further than a long-term relationship, the thought of his class in charge of any children, let alone his own, was more terrifying than any villain he had yet to face.

 

A murmur of disappointed sighs ran through the room. From the side of the class, he saw Mineta raise his hand, a gleam in his eye that Shouta did not like the look of one bit.   
  
“Have you two fu--”   


“--And just like that, you’ve all lost question privileges. Back to work.” Groaning in unison, he could have sworn he saw at least three people hit the purple menace in the back of the head, but chose to look the other way.

 

“What did I just say?” he growled, glaring at the still grumbling teenagers. “Back to work. _Now._ ”

 

Despite his grumpy exterior, he couldn’t help feeling just a little relieved - it was out in the open now. No more having to stop himself from getting too close to her during school hours, or worrying that the kids would find out and prove insufferable yet again. It had happened, and it had been dealt with for now. A small smile made its way onto his face and he looked down the the desk to hide it. Being open about his relationships had never come easily to Aizawa Shouta, but this… this was nice.

  
He might actually be able to get used to it.


	45. Epilogue

 

Of course there had to be trouble right at the end of his patrol. For the first six hours, the most Shouta had needed to deal with was a couple of teenagers throwing rocks at a couple of store windows that scattered almost as soon as he had shown up. He had been starting to think that maybe it wouldn’t be as gruelling a night as it usually was, but then a group of idiots decided it was a good idea to rob an ATM at four in the morning. Great, just great.    
  
The first four were easy enough to take out, none of them having much combat skills or particularly harmful quirks. The fifth member of the group, however, had some kind of short range teleportation quirk, which was proving to be rather difficult to keep an eye on or capture properly. Having restrained the first ones, he began to sprint down the alley in pursuit of the lone criminal, stopping short when he heard a decidedly high-pitched scream of pure fear in conjunction with a wave of deep red light. And then silence. Struggling to contain the smirk on his face, he strode towards the source.    
  
“I could have taken care of that myself, Panikos.” 

 

Standing over the now handcuffed runaway was a woman clad in a red and black bodysuit with a cascade of honey blonde hair left unbound at her shoulders to obscure her face at the angle she was standing. Even then, Shouta could see that she was grinning. 

 

“That may be so, Eraserhead, but I thought I’d save you the trouble.” Straightening up to face him properly, her mischievous smile was even brighter, seemingly glinting off the glow of the streetlamps as a dark red and black eye retreated under the skin of her cheek. He decided not to fight the grin inching its way up his face as he made his way towards her, watching as she inspected her left hand. Frowning slightly, she turned back to him. “I think my ring got scratched again - we really should’ve gone with titanium.”   
  
“It’s a bit late now,” he scoffed, looking down at the gold band on her ring finger, not covered by the gloves she usually wore. It was a little scuffed, but then again, his wasn’t much better. “After two years, I’d say the warranty has run out.” 

 

Her laugh was enough to disperse any remaining irritation he felt at having his night disrupted by the poorly planned heist. Pulling her into a hug and shooting a death glare at the criminal behind her, he asked, “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought your patrol ended an hour ago.”    
  
She shrugged, pushing herself up on tiptoes to plant a kiss to the tip of his nose. “It did, but I thought I’d wait ‘til you were done to head home.”

  
Wrinkling up his face at the contact but still smiling a little, he rolled his eyes. “You really don’t have to keep waiting up for me. Tsukauchi’s guys will be here in a minute to pick up the arrests and then we can go.”

 

They didn’t have to wait for long. Soon enough, the blinding flashes of red and blue came rearing up through the darkened street, and the handcuffed would-be burglars were led into the back of a van with bars across the windows. Shouta would have been happy to leave immediately, but Kuro had already started inquiring after the families of the officers on-call and making sure that the paperwork on the arrest warrants were fairly drawn up. How she managed to be on good terms with the police while simultaneously looking out for the rights of the people she arrested was beyond him, but it was impressive nonetheless.    
  
Finally satisfied, he felt his wife squeeze his hand gently as she said goodbye to the cops, and, giving a respectful nod of his own, began to walk with her back across the street, following the map of the city in his head to get the shortest route home. As they walked, he felt a light nudging against his chest, and looked down to see Akane messing with the capture weapon around his neck, trying to get herself under it as well.    
  
“If you were cold, you could have just asked.” He raised an amused eyebrow, drawing her closer to him and wrapping the ‘scarf’ around her neck as well as his own.

 

She pouted at him, mussed hair sticking out at odd angles. “Maybe I was trying to have it all to myself,” she grumbled, nevertheless inching closer to his warmth. “How was your day?”

 

Stifling a slight snort, he remarked, “You were there for most of it, I don’t know why you want to know. It was the same as always, wrangling a bunch of quirk-happy brats and questioning my career choice.” She could see right through the sarcastic recount, and he knew it. “At least I don’t have to deal with a fight every second day, now that Midoriya and Bakugou are gone.” That was a bit harsh, seeing as the two had calmed down significantly in their final years, but the point still stood. “How about you? Who’s taking care of Eri?”

 

“Shinsou’s at home - apparently she fell asleep after making him watch Sailor Moon with her.” She smiled, pulling out her phone and showing him a picture of the ten-year-old napping on the couch in full Sailor Scout get-up. He would have to get Kuro to send that to him - most of his storage was filled with pictures of the four of them, but one more couldn’t hurt. “Oh, and Mr Akiyama called, too - it was Chiyoh’s tenth birthday on the weekend. Apparently she’s started talking about being a hero when she grows up.” The affection in her voice was clear - although she no longer treated her as a psychologist, Akane had remained in touch with Chiyoh and her father over the years - it ended up being a far better arrangement, as there was now far more contact between their families than there would have been if professional relationships had been maintained. 

 

“Thanks to you, I suppose?” He asked, grinning behind the scarf. Maybe he’d end up teaching the kid someday - her quirk was certainly powerful enough for U.A, and having a support network like the staff at the school would certainly help her with any lingering doubts she had about having a supposedly ‘villainous’ quirk. Not that he was showing bias. Not at all.

 

Nudging him playfully, his wife laughed. “Give yourself some credit, love. I’d say her first run-in with a Pro did more for her ambitions than anything I could do.”    
  
“More influential than the Nightmare Hero? Impossible.” Teasing her with her ‘hero title’ might have been mean, but the half-irritated, half-flattered flush on her face was well worth the light punch to the shoulder.    
  


The mock argument continued most of the way to the apartment, only stopping when they reached the front door and had to quiet down slightly for risk of waking up Eri, who was a notoriously light sleeper.  Kuro ducked into the child’s bedroom for a moment, planting a light bedtime kiss on the child’s forehead before following him back to their own room. 

  
Between Chiyoh, Eri and even Shinsou, Shouta had realised that Kuro’s affinity for kids went far beyond a clinical setting - raising Eri was a task they shared, and there were definitely times he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to do it without her. Or, more specifically, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

  
“God, I always forget how old this thing is,” she muttered, gesturing to their shared bed as they put away their various tools and outfits, “we have to get a new one soon, before this one collapses on us.”

 

“Well, maybe we could afford it if you stop jumping in on my arrests,” he teased - they easily had enough money to replace it, the problem was finding the time away from work to go shopping for a new bed-frame. What free days they did have were spent either sleeping or with Eri and Shinsou; the concept of wasting hours in a stuffy warehouse shopping for furniture didn’t have a whole lot of appeal.    
  
Kuro shot him a look he didn’t quite recognise, before remarking casually, “that shouldn’t be a problem - I’m thinking about taking a break from hero work for a little while.” 

 

“What? Are you retiring or something?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.   
  


She shook her head, looking as though she was having trouble keeping a neutral expression. “No, nothing like that! Only for year or so, anyway.”   
  
“Then why? Are you sick?” His wife was rarely secretive, and he wasn’t sure he liked being kept in the dark, even for a little while. It made him worry about her, and he did enough of that already,

“No, Shouta. I’m not sick,” Not yet facing him properly, she shrugged, “or, I’m only sick because of something else.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

“It means,” She turned to him, her eyes bright, “I’m pregnant, Shouta.”

 

If someone had looked at all the words, in all the dictionaries, in all the languages in all the world, they still wouldn’t have found a way to fully describe the utter, all consuming joy that Aizawa Shouta felt at that moment. Maybe he was dreaming - maybe he would wake up in the morning to find that nothing had happened. Maybe it was a dream, but if he could keep the woman who created nightmares by his side? 

 

Well, it was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. 

 

**FIN.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S ALL FOLKS! A few thanks I would like to give, bc I feel like it's important to acknowledge the people who helped me along the way:
> 
> @ohbird and @ophelia- for holding me at gunpoint and making me write the story I'd been screaming about on discord, and loving Kuro as much as I do
> 
> My dad, as weird as it sounds, for giving me plotting ideas and watching the sixth sense with me so that I could get the whole 'tortured child psychologist' thing down-pat
> 
> And you, my readers! For leaving such wonderful comments and encouraging me every step of the way. I mean it when I say I couldn't have done it without you. ShoutAkane is something that I never thought more than a few people would be interested in, but I have never been happier to be proven wrong. THANK YOU ALL, AND I HOPE TO SEE YOU IN THE NEXT STORY I WRITE. 
> 
> If anyone has an idea for a drabble or AU, hmu on discord (Pixelshiftexe#9405) and scream with me about it bc I guarantee you I will be into it. 
> 
> Until next time, darlings~


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